Loving Arms
by LauGS
Summary: Desperate times call for desperate measures. When Blaine's heart gets broken again just before he was supposed to introduce his boyfriend to his entire family, he is too humiliated to show up alone at the Andersons' doorstep. Cue Kurt Hummel, a beautiful prostitute with nothing left to lose and a farce that will change their lives.
1. Chapter 1

**Hi everyone! Welcome to my brand new story!**

**Loving Arms is completely written, as usual, and it's 20 chapters + an epilogue long. I honestly cannot remember where the idea for this came from. It's a Prostitute!Kurt AU. That means we'll have sexual themes and lots of angst. For the first time ever, I will be giving warnings when necessary. So make sure you read the author's note for every chapter. There aren't warnings for this first chapter, so you can go ahead and read!**

**Thank you so much to my beautiful betas Wutif and Christine for the help with this chapter. Also, a huge thanks to Lana (she's coughsyrop on tumblr!) for working on the cover art!**

**The title was taken from a Dixie Chicks song of the same name.**

**I own nothing!**

**Here we go!**

* * *

Blaine flinched at the thud of the door closing, as if he'd been slapped. It _felt_ like a slap in the face. After all, this was the third time someone he loved had dumped him.

The sudden silence echoing in the apartment felt overwhelming, and he dropped onto the couch with a dejected sigh. This wasn't how he had imagined his Sunday evening going. He had imagined dinner, a movie, some cuddles on that very same couch where he was now alone; maybe some lazy sex before going to sleep… but not this. Definitely nothing like this.

He felt a soft pressure on his knee and opened his eyes to see his Dalmatian dog resting her head on it, whining. Blaine scratched behind her ears, soothingly. "I guess it's just you and me again, girl."

Nayla stared up at him with her big dark eyes. Blaine had the feeling even his dog was feeling sorry for him right now.

Blaine Anderson was twenty seven years old and up until an hour ago, he would have said he was largely contented with his life. He had a job he loved, a loving family, a nice apartment, an adorable dog, and a boyfriend that he'd really believed loved him… but, once again, he'd been deceiving himself. The one thing he didn't have, the one missing puzzle piece, was the perfect man to share his life with.

Three times, he had been sure he had found _the one_, and each time they had proved him wrong. Why was it so hard to find someone who loved _him_? Was it that Blaine wasn't boyfriend – _husband_ – material at all? Why couldn't anyone love him for who he was? Why did they always turn their back on him and leave him heartbroken? And why did he never see it coming?

They always implied it was Blaine's fault, so now he was starting to believe that there was something seriously wrong with him.

* * *

Logan had been his first boyfriend, during his college years. They had lasted for nearly three years, even getting an apartment together when they were both in junior year. Blaine had been so deeply in love with him – it had been love at first sight: the athletic blonde guy who seemed to like going out for a run around campus at the same time Blaine did, and had inevitably ended in them running together, exchanging phone numbers, going out on a date. Blaine had hoped they would spend their entire lives together, and it still stung that Logan suddenly ended it, right out of the blue. It certainly hadn't seemed like a big deal to Logan to just move on, while Blaine, whose life had revolved around his boyfriend, had spun into orbit.

"I can't do this anymore, Blaine," Logan had said abruptly, with a frustrated sigh. Blaine had paused in the middle of their tiny kitchen, completely blind-sided, with a pan in one hand and a spatula in the other, halfway through making breakfast. "I feel like I'm married to a 1950s housewife. You're choking me…"

"I…" Blaine blinked in confusion. "I'm sorry? I thought I was just taking _care_ of you…"

"This isn't taking care of me. It's being clingy," Logan had snapped, irritated. "Constantly sending me messages asking me when I'm coming home…"

"That's just so I'll know when I should have dinner ready!" Blaine exclaimed, hazel eyes going wide.

"That's exactly what I'm talking about!" Logan threw his arms in the air. "I don't _need_ you to make my dinner every night. I don't _need_ you to tell me you love me every five minutes…"

"I don't… I don't tell you that every five minutes," Blaine muttered, wilting. That one hurt. Did sharing his feelings truly annoy Logan _that_ much?

"Look, I know I'm your first boyfriend, so let me break it down for you," Logan stepped closer to Blaine to put his hands on his shoulders, their faces so close that Blaine could lean in and kiss him if he wanted to… although Logan didn't seem to want his kisses anymore. "The best thing about dating guys is that they're usually a lot more relaxed than girls are. With you? It's like dating a fifteen year old girl who keeps sending you little love notes with hearts all over them during class…"

Blaine put the pan and the spatula down, his eyes welling with tears from that cheap shot. "Am I a fifteen year old girl or a damn 50s housewife, then?"

"Worse. You're a combination of both," Logan said in a cold voice. Blaine felt his heart breaking, and he knew, he just knew, it was all over.

"I'm _sorry_ for trying to keep you happy. I didn't know loving you was such a bad thing to do…"

Logan rolled his eyes. "Listen, Blaine. It would be a lot better for the both of us if we just went our different ways. We clearly aren't working…"

Blaine stood there numbly in the middle of the kitchen, as Logan gathered his things, before the door closed behind him. That was the first time he had been dumped.

* * *

His second boyfriend, Richard, had been a little older than him. They had both just gotten out of long relationships and, feeling lonely, they had found comfort in each other. Mostly, physical comfort. After the fourth time Richard fucked him, Blaine knew that he was falling in love. He didn't say it yet, afraid of another rejection, but once the months passed and they were still together, hope began growing in his heart.

They had been together for almost eight months when, as they sat close together on the couch at Blaine's apartment, watching mindless television, Blaine had brought up something he had been thinking about for a while.

"So… I was thinking…" He said, licking his lips nervously. "You know I'm going to my parents' house this weekend, right?" At Richard's nod, he continued: "Well, I was wondering if you'd like to come with me… if you'd like to meet them."

Richard looked at him as if he had grown another head. "You want me to meet your parents?"

"Yes?" Blaine replied, frowning, because that didn't sound crazy at all, right? They had been together for a while now. Wasn't it time to make it official? "They've been asking to meet my boyfriend for months…"

"Wait." Richard eyed him with surprise written all over his face. His arm slipped from where it had been resting over Blaine's shoulders. "You think we're boyfriends?"

Blaine was, once again, very confused. His heart shriveled and died a bit, at hearing the disbelief in Richard's voice. "Well, yeah. Of course…"

"Oh, Blaine," Richard chuckled patronizingly. He actually _chuckled_. "Sometimes I forget how young you are. Are you really that naïve?"

Blaine muted the television. "I am not naïve. Maybe it started as something more casual, but…"

"It's still casual. It never _stopped_ being casual sex, for me," Richard interrupted, far too seriously for Blaine to feel at ease. "I'm not looking for a boyfriend. I don't _want_ a boyfriend. And if I did want one, I wouldn't want a boy as clingy as you are."

_Clingy_. There was that word again. It made Blaine's stomach churn. "I'm _not_ clingy! What makes you think I'm clingy?"

"Oh, Blaine, please. You spend more time at my apartment than at yours. You want me to meet your parents. You even showed up at my office a couple of times to surprise me with lunch…"

"I was being nice! That's not being clingy! I know you hate those damn dry sandwiches from that horrible cafeteria and I wanted you to have real food!" Blaine protested, feeling younger with every word. It seemed as if Richard was looking down at him, almost pitying him for being so innocent.

"Blaine, come on. We have sex, we have fun, but at the end of the night, I don't want to cuddle with you. I just want you to go home," Richard shrugged, as if what he was saying wasn't tearing Blaine into pieces. "Although, I admit waking up with my dick in your mouth isn't a bad way to wake up at all, but I really…"

Blaine clenched his fists. He was furious, especially with himself. How had he convinced himself Richard loved him when he felt nothing for him? He was an idiot. "Don't you think you could've been clearer about your expectations? Don't you think it would've been nice to let me know there was no future in this… this _relationship_?"

Richard, obviously bored with the conversation, grabbed his jacket from the back of the couch. "Don't you think that if you hadn't been so busy building this relationship into something it wasn't in your head, you would've realized that the only thing we actually share is a bed?" He put his jacket on, and then dared to pat Blaine's shoulder condescendingly. "Sorry to disappoint you, Blaine. Have fun at your parents this weekend."

When Richard walked out the door ten seconds later, Blaine knew he wouldn't ever see him again, either.

Blaine felt stupid for crying, but he couldn't stop his heart from breaking, even if the man who had just broken it wasn't worth his tears.

* * *

After Richard, Blaine had taken time for himself. He focused on his work, on reading the books he hadn't taken the time to read and hanging out with his friends. He got a dog to fill the emptiness, to be excited to see him when he came home. Nayla was an adorable puppy and Blaine enjoyed taking care of her. He was the kind of guy who liked to pamper the ones who loved, and he had to accept that there were people who didn't appreciate that. But Nayla did, so for a while, her devotion was enough.

And then he had met Paul, the cute receptionist at the vet's office, who flirted with Blaine every time he took Nayla for a checkup. But Blaine refused to take the first step, this time. Paul finally asked him out on a date, and it didn't take Blaine long to fall for him. Paul was truly a great guy, friendly, open, gentle. Even though Blaine tried to stop himself, he was already planning their wedding when they had been dating for only six months. Was it so bad, that he could see himself living the rest of his life with him?

But now it had happened again. Paul had been so stressed lately, working two jobs and studying for his Master's Degree, and Blaine's instincts had kicked in again, making sure he got enough sleep, enough food, enough time to relax. He couldn't help it; he just liked taking care of people, and Paul didn't seem to be annoyed with his attention.

(Blaine admitted to himself, when it was late at night and no one could hear his sighs, that he wished someone would take care of him, for a change. Paul was great, but he was always too busy to spend quality time with him…)

Blaine had really believed things were okay this time. He really thought Paul loved him just as much as he loved Paul.

"Blaine, we need to talk," Paul murmured just as Blaine walked into the living room after checking the lasagna in the oven.

Blaine frowned. "What's up? Are you okay?"

"I…" Paul ran a hand down his face. "I hate doing this, I really do, but… I just… Blaine, this isn't working out."

Blaine sat next to him and tilted his head to the side, at a complete loss. "I don't know what you're talking about, honey. Are you having trouble at work?"

"No, Blaine. I'm talking about us," Paul looked him in the eyes, and could see his determination to follow through, even if it hurt him. Blaine felt like all the air had abandoned his lungs. "We are just not working anymore. I'm sorry."

Blaine barely managed to choke out one word through his devastation. "Why?"

"I think we both want different things from a relationship," Paul explained. At least he was being nicer about it than the others, Blaine thought miserably. "I can't give you what you want, and what you're giving me… it's not what I need. It's not what I want…"

"What are you talking about?" Blaine asked again, floundering for solid ground. "What different things? I just want _you_. Tell me what you want, and I'll give it to you."

"Please, please, don't hate me for using this word, but… you're… well, Blaine, you're being clingy," Paul cringed, knowing how much Blaine hated that horrible word. "I know you don't see it that way, but…"

"How can you say that to me?" Blaine stood up again, unable to stay still.

"I'm sorry!" Paul raised his hands in front of him, defensively. "Blaine, you're a great guy, but we really do want different things: I'm way too independent and you are…"

"Don't you dare say clingy again," he gritted, between clenched teeth.

Paul sighed. "You do understand what I mean, though, right?"

Blaine felt like he was about to explode. "No. You know what? No, I _don't_ understand! I don't understand what's so wrong about wanting to take care of the people you love. I like being there for you whenever you need me; I like making dinner for you when you've had a long day, and I like…"

"Blaine," Paul interrupted, putting his hands on Blaine's shoulders, squeezing softly. "You're an amazing guy. You just haven't found someone who needs you the way you want to be needed yet…"

Blaine bit his lip. "I thought you did…"

"I wanted to. I really wanted to. But… I just can't," Paul said regretfully.

Blaine knew it was a lost cause. There wasn't anything he could say to make Paul stay. So he nodded.

He nodded, and he let him go.

He always let them go.

* * *

_Clingy_. That damn word was Blaine Anderson's worst enemy. It meant he wasn't understood; it meant his love wasn't wanted. It meant the person he loved didn't really know what to do with all the love he had to give.

He didn't know when he started feeling the need to have someone to care for, but it had probably started when he was little. He was always the kid who stopped when he was riding his bicycle around the neighborhood to pick up injured birds and frogs and take them home to help them get better. He was the kind of kid who made his mother a cup of tea when she wasn't feeling well. He liked listening to his older brother talking about his day, and comforting him if he was upset about something. He helped his father with the car he had bought and stored away in the garage, even though he wasn't interested, because he knew it made his dad happy. He liked baking cookies to take to school and give to his classmates. He liked making everyone happy, and what was so wrong with that?

But now that he was an adult, being so caring had gotten him far more heartbreak than he ever imagined.

As he sat at the kitchen table alone, eating lasagna without much of an appetite, Blaine sighed, tiredly. He wondered if calling him _clingy_ was just an excuse, the convenient excuse everyone used to find a way out. He wondered if there was something else about him, something that made the men he loved walk away, and break his heart. Would he ever find someone who needed him, someone he could need, someone who wasn't going to close the door on him?

Blaine sat at the kitchen table, for a long, long time, as if he was waiting for something. But he wasn't waiting for Paul to come back, to regret his choice.

They never did.

And Blaine kept waiting, even though he didn't know exactly what he was waiting for.

* * *

Mondays were usually bad enough, but today was the worst Monday in the history of all Mondays.

Blaine was a kindergarten teacher. He had always loved kids, and teaching, and he hadn't ever doubted what he would do with his life, once he graduated from high school. Seeing a bunch of rambunctious, joyful children on a daily basis, watching them grow, watching their faces light up when he taught them something new… it was priceless. If there was anything he was definitely happy with in his life, it was his decision to become a kindergarten teacher.

But that didn't mean that going to work the morning after yet another break up was exactly what he wanted to do.

"Mr. B, Jenny took my glue! Tell her to give it back to me!"

"Mr. B, isn't my picture really pretty? Can we hang it on the wall?"

"I need to go to the bathroom, Mr. B!"

Blaine allowed himself a moment to take a deep breath, and then forced a smile back on his face and got back to helping his kids. On Mondays, they loved making paintings about their weekends. Blaine loved encouraging them to be creative, but today everything seemed harder.

They always had story time after the kids' lunch, and today Blaine welcomed it gladly. Some of the children fell asleep, and the few that didn't were quiet, focused on the book he was reading to them. Blaine's head was pounding, so he was glad to have some peace.

Once the day ended, and every kid had been picked up, Blaine returned to his classroom to tidy everything for the next morning. He put each tiny chair back in its place, put the items forgotten by the kids in the 'lost and found' box, put the toys in their respective box, and then hung the day's drawings on the Wall of Art, where he put the kids' new paintings every week. It was one of the things the kids enjoyed the most, having their work displayed there for everyone else to see.

As he was about to grab his satchel, his phone vibrated in his pocket. He checked it distractedly, and sighed when he saw it was his mother calling. She always seemed to sense when something was going on, and he just wasn't ready yet to talk about what had happened with Paul the previous night.

He knew he couldn't just ignore her call, though, so he took a deep breath, and tried to sound as normal as possible.

"Hey Mom!"

"Hi, dear," Grace Anderson said happily. "Are you busy?"

"No, not really. I was about to leave school. Why? What's up?" He asked as he turned the lights off in his classroom and walked down the hallway.

"Oh, I just wanted to check something with you," she murmured, and Blaine could hear a soft rustling of paper, as if she was writing something. "I'm finishing up with the catering details for the party, and I thought I remembered you said Paul is allergic to crab…"

Blaine stopped in the middle of the hallway, suddenly paralyzed. The party. He had completely forgotten about his parents' anniversary party, where he was supposed to finally bring his boyfriend over to meet them. It was going to take place during Spring Break, so Blaine (and Paul) had agreed to stay for the week, to help with the final preparations. And now, instead, he was supposed to tell his mother that he didn't even have a boyfriend anymore. He was supposed to tell her that, yet again, he wasn't good enough. And fuck, that was so humiliating. Why was he so incapable of having a lasting relationship? Why did he always screw everything up?

"Dear, are you still there?" She asked, a frown clearly audible in her voice.

Blaine shook his head. "Uhm. Yeah, I'm still here. Sorry."

"So, is Paul allergic to crab? The entreés have crab in them, so I just want to make sure we have something different available for him…" she explained, obviously excited about finally meeting the guy who had been making her son so happy.

Blaine blinked. And then he did one of the stupidest things he had ever done in his life. "Uh, yeah. Yeah, he's allergic to crab…"

"Oh, okay, then. Don't worry about a thing. I'll make sure we have something else for him," his mother replied immediately, and Blaine could hear her writing something down. "I can't tell you how happy we are to finally meet him."

Blaine swallowed nervously. "Me too, Mom."

"I'm sure we're going to love him. Someone who makes our boy so happy can only be a wonderful man." There was a beeping sound on the other end of the line, and Grace hummed for a moment. "I have to go, dear. I got a message from your brother asking if he needs to wear a suit. I'd better call him before he rents a tuxedo, as if he's going to the Oscars…"

Blaine leaned against the wall and closed his eyes. "Sure, Mom. I'll talk to you soon. Love you."

"I love you, too, dear. Tell Paul I say hi!" And just like that, she was gone.

Blaine realized that, in less than two weeks, he was going to show up at his parents' doorstep completely alone, and his parents would spend the entire week sending pitying looks his way and trying to comfort him for being dumped (again).

He was most definitely not looking forward to that.

* * *

When he woke on Thursday, Blaine felt like maybe he was starting to get over it. Yes, it still hurt, and yes, he wished it hadn't happened, but he couldn't spend the rest of his life weeping for guys who weren't worth it, right?

That lasted until that evening, when he found one of Paul's favorite t-shirts mixed in with his laundry.

He spent the rest of his night curled up with Nayla on the couch, drinking wine straight from the bottle.

* * *

As the days until the Spring Break passed by, Blaine became more and more desperate.

His brother sent him a picture of his suit – at least their mother had talked him out of wearing a tuxedo – and two different ties, asking him for his opinion on which one to wear.

Blaine hadn't even decided what he was going to wear himself. He was too busy wondering what he was going to do about the absent boyfriend, instead.

* * *

"Look, Mr. B, I made a picture for you!"

Blaine smiled his brightest smile as he crouched next to Wendy and took the drawing from her. "Really? Let's see it, then!"

"It's you!" She announced proudly, bouncing a little, and making her long pig tails sway around her shoulders. "See?"

Blaine looked at the drawing. His head looked huge, his body tiny, and she had drawn his eyebrows thick and low over his eyes, as if he were frowning.

"You're a gloomy gus!" She observed, pointing at the eyebrows. "Because you've looked really sad lately! See? Those are tears falling down your cheeks!"

For once in his life, Blaine hated how uninhibited and honest children could be.

* * *

It was Thursday, again, and Blaine was supposed to be at his parents' house the next afternoon, after he was done with school for the week. An entire week had gone by and he still had no idea what he was going to do about his missing boyfriend. Needless to say, he was very close to having a nervous breakdown.

He decided he needed to relax a little, breathe some fresh air and stop thinking so much, so he grabbed Nayla's leash and took her out for a walk. They lived in a nice neighborhood in Columbus, and Blaine usually enjoyed their late walks, but lately… lately he didn't seem to be able to enjoy anything. Lately, all he did was question his life, even though not too long ago, he had been convinced it was quite perfect.

Nayla walked happily ahead of him, as much as her leash allowed her, with her head high and her tail wagging eagerly. She briefly stopped to sniff a tree, but walked on almost immediately, the tree deemed unworthy to be her toilet.

Blaine's plan to stop thinking wasn't really working for him. His thoughts kept coming back to the impending weekend and how much of a disaster it was going to be. He knew he should man up and tell his family the truth. It wasn't as if he had any other options anyway. What was he going to do? Show up at their doorstep alone and say his boyfriend couldn't make it because he had food poisoning, or whatever else he could come up with? They would discover the truth in the end. It wasn't worth lying about it.

That didn't mean he liked the idea of coming clean, though. After his two previous break ups and the intermittent disappointing dates that led him nowhere, he knew his parents were worried about him. They knew how quickly he fell for guys, how much he hated being alone. They knew he tended to do really stupid things when he was heartbroken.

Like hooking up with older guys who used him only for sex. Or pretending he still had a boyfriend, when actually, he didn't anymore.

Blaine sighed as he stopped at yet another tree for Nayla to investigate. He would call his parents as soon as he got to his apartment and he would tell them the truth, humiliating or not, that Paul wasn't in the picture anymore. It was better to give them time to process the news, than seeing the pity on their faces when he got to their place the next day.

Just as he was thinking about that, his phone buzzed in his pocket. He picked it up to find a text from his father. He opened it up, curiously.

_From: Dad._

_So glad we're finally meeting Paul tomorrow. Just in case you're interested, I found your grandma's engagement ring yesterday. We could have it modified if you happen to need it some day._

Blaine almost dropped his phone. Why was the universe conspiring against him?

He let out more leash as he waited for Nayla to finish with the tree, leaning against a building's wall. His father was offering his grandmother's engagement ring to him. Yes, okay, maybe he had mentioned Paul could be _the one_. Maybe he had hinted at wanting to get married a few times already. He knew his parents had lost all hope with Cooper, who prided himself by having a different girl at his arm every time they saw him, but he hadn't expected _this_.

And what was he going to say to him now? _No, thank you, Paul actually left me last week_?

Gosh, Blaine had never felt so pathetic in his entire life, and that was saying something.

Nayla pulled at the leash to go on and he reluctantly followed. He lost himself in his depressing thoughts, and didn't really notice where he was going. Before he knew it, he was walking by a part of town where he had never ventured before. He looked around at the unfamiliar buildings and streets and sighed in frustration.

He just wanted to go home and hide away from the world in his bed, with the covers pulled over his head.

He turned the next corner to go back to one of the more familiar streets in his route, when something caught his eye. It was quite dark and he had trouble figuring out exactly what it was at first, but then realized he was looking at a tall, slim man, leaning against a wall in an alleyway. But what really caught his attention were the clothes the man was wearing.

He wore knee-high boots and the tiniest pair of leather shorts Blaine had seen in his life, with laces down to both sides that contrasted with the pale skin they exposed. They left absolutely nothing to the imagination, and he couldn't help but notice the bulge straining the front. His top was also made of leather, tight and sleeveless, and over that, he was wearing a corset that made Blaine gape blankly for a moment. The pale glow of a street light illuminated the man's sharp cheekbones and sinful mouth, and accentuated his perfectly styled hair. Blaine couldn't even decide what color his eyes were, stunningly lined with smoky eyeliner.

Blaine simply couldn't look away. He had never seen a man who looked like this before. There was so much pale milky skin there to see, and yet, not enough at the same time. How could he look simultaneously vulnerable and strong? Blaine was completely bewildered.

The man tilted his head to the side, looking Blaine up and down. He arched a delicately trimmed eyebrow. "What's up, darling? Never seen a whore before?"

Blaine gasped, unconsciously. The man's voice was high and breathy, just as attractive as the rest of him. It wasn't the first time Blaine saw a prostitute, but it was definitely the first time he saw a _male_ prostitute, and he couldn't help but wonder how many people in Ohio would actually stop to hire him.

And then, Blaine completely lost his mind, because the most absurd idea crossed his mind, and he actually considered acting on it.

"Hi," he said, feeling a bit stupid.

The man crossed his arms over his chest. They were long and pale, and Blaine could see the muscles shifting with the movement. He seemed amused. "Hello."

"My name's Blaine," Blaine continued. He didn't know exactly how to say what he was thinking. "Yours?"

"You can call me whatever you want, as long as you have some cash," the man breathed, smiling coquettishly.

There was a knot forming in Blaine's stomach, but he forced the words out anyway. "Then I need you to pretend that your name is Paul."

"Paul?" The man repeated. "Really, now?"

Blaine swallowed as he nodded slowly. "I… I have a proposition for you."

The man hummed, probably hiding a laugh. "Don't they all," he muttered, mostly to himself. "What kind of proposition, darling?"

Blaine took a deep breath, and decided to cut to the chase. "I need you to be my date for a whole week."

The man straightened up and looked at him guardedly, obviously surprised at Blaine's words.

That would've been the perfect time for Blaine to turn around and run away before he did something even more stupendously stupid.

Instead, he tightened his grip on Nayla's leash and said: "What's your price?"

There was an amused smirk on the man's face as he took a few steps closer to Blaine, coming farther out of the alley to face him. One of his long pale fingers trailed a line across Blaine's jaw, who tensed under his touch.

"I'm having a hard time believing a cute little thing like you has trouble getting a date," he said softly, teasingly, gazing down over him, his boots giving him an advantage in height.

"Are you interested in my proposition or not?" Blaine muttered tightly.

The man leaned in until his mouth was close to Blaine's ear. Blaine felt a warm flush running over his body, with his warm breath ghosting his skin. "Make your offer, pretty boy, and then I'll tell you if I'm interested or not."

Blaine was already regretting it, but he made an offer anyway.

That's how truly desperate he was.

* * *

**So, there it is! I cannot wait to hear what you guys think about this first chapter, so please hit review and let me know!**

**I will be updating every weekend, most probably Saturday, for the near future. If the updating schedule changes, I'll let you know ;)**

**Have a wonderful week!**


	2. Chapter 2

**Hello everyone! Happy Saturday!**

**I hope you're having a wonderful weekend. **

**Thank you so much for all the wonderful comments, messages and reviews you've sent me for the first chapter. None of my other stories ever got this amount of attention from the first chapter, so I'm flattered and eternally grateful. I hope the rest of this story won't disappoint!**

**Huge thank you to my wonderful betas, Wutif and Christine. Their input on this chapter was especially helpful, since it was the hardest thing I've ever written. **

**This chapter has _WARNINGS_. Please go down to the author's note at the end of the page, if you think you might need them. **

**I own nothing. Enjoy!**

* * *

If someone had told sixteen-year-old Kurt Hummel that he would end up a prostitute, he would have probably tittered nervously and say that they were crazy, because sixteen-year-old Kurt Hummel was absolutely terrified of sex. He couldn't picture himself doing _that_, even in a loving relationship, much less with a bunch of strangers for money.

But he should've known that life never worked out the way it was supposed to. Not his life, at least.

A week after his eighteenth birthday, when he was very close to finally finishing high school, when he could almost taste his freedom; when he was dreaming of New York and Broadway, his dad had a second heart attack. This time, no matter how much Kurt squeezed his hand and begged and pleaded with him to wake up, Burt Hummel didn't open his eyes again. This time, when Kurt walked out of the hospital, he had absolutely no one left in the world.

For a while, he lived in a heartbroken daze. He woke up, went to school, tried to survive each day as best as he could, before he came back to an empty house. Then he went into his dad's room, and cried himself to sleep on his bed. There, where it still smelled like him, he tried to convince himself that nothing had changed.

But everything had changed.

Burt Hummel had owned a car repair shop, their name proudly painted over the entrance. He had started it from scratch and with hard work and dedication, turned into a decently profitable business. However, the garage was losing business, now that Burt wasn't there to run it, but Kurt kept it going for a few more weeks, because he didn't want to lose his last link to his dad. When he started getting letters threatening to seize his assets to pay the hospital bills that had piled up while his dad had lingered, he knew he had to give up and sell the place. The day he locked the doors for the last time, it felt as if he had lost his father all over again.

He paid the bills, kept a small sum to survive, and then saved the rest away for college, even though his dreams didn't seem important anymore. He wouldn't ever go to New York now. He couldn't leave Ohio. Everything Kurt had in the world, everyone he had ever cared about, was buried in Lima's Memorial Park Cemetery. Both his parents were there now.

And though he knew they wouldn't notice if he was gone, Kurt had no more strength left to fight, no wish to follow the life he had always wanted. What was the point, anyway? Life was such a swift, fleeting thing. It didn't matter where he was living… New York, Ohio. It was all the same, in the end. Dreams were stupid, remote; unreachable.

Kurt applied to OSU, the last place he had pictured himself applying, so he could stay in Lima, and applied everywhere for a job, but no one would hire the only 'out' boy in town. When a letter from NYU, where he had applied months earlier for early admittance, arrived in the mail soon after, saying he'd been accepted, he forced himself not to cry and threw it in the trash.

It wasn't as if he had any more tears left in him, anyway.

Twice Kurt had to take money from his college fund to buy food, and to pay the bills. He had to find a solution to his financial problems or he would starve to death, but he was so lost, so tired, so done...

The decision on how he could earn extra money was made for him. Kurt had been staring wretchedly at a picture of his father with his arm around his shoulders, hanging in his locker, when he realized the hallways were empty, most of the other students already in class. He was rushing to get to his next class when Kurt was stopped in his tracks by David Karofsky suddenly appearing in front of him, blocking his way.

He felt cold fear grip him, because he had lost count of the times Karofsky had pushed him against lockers. He had once trapped Kurt in the locker room and kissed him. Kurt had been horrified by his assault, but he didn't tell anyone, not a word. Not only because Karofsky said he would kill him, but because the only person who might have cared enough to help was his dad, and he had just come out of the hospital after his first heart attack. He just couldn't put that weight on his dad's shoulders.

So Kurt kept Karofsky's secret, and Karofsky took his silence as permission to harass Kurt every single day, not really caring that he was turning Kurt's life into a living hell.

Today wasn't going to be any different. In fact, today things would take a sudden turn for the worse.

"What are you doing wandering around the hallways all on your own, Lady Hummel?" David said, smirking.

Kurt didn't reply. He looked down at the floor, hoping that if he didn't acknowledge David's presence, he would leave him alone.

Even after all these years, Kurt was still so terribly naïve…

Karofsky's hands were suddenly on Kurt's shoulders, pushing him violently against the lockers. Kurt closed his eyes, the familiar pain shooting down his spine. Karofsky's hot breath hit Kurt's ear when he leaned closer to speak into it.

"Were you looking for me? I bet I'm the only one who ever touches you. I bet I'm the only one who's ever been this close to you. You like it, when I get all over you, don't you?"

Kurt swallowed thickly, trying to keep the nausea at bay.

"Who in their right minds would actually want to touch you?" Karofsky spat furiously. "Who could ever want to be near you?"

Kurt didn't say anything, even though he wondered why Karofsky got so close, if he found him that repulsive.

"The ones who act all shy and innocent, just like you do, are always the worst ones," Karosfky whispered in a cold voice, right into Kurt's ear. "You like this, don't you? You like it when someone pays attention to you. You like it when someone touches you. You act as if you hated it, as if you didn't want it, but deep down inside… you're a _slut_ for it. You love it, don't you Hummel?"

Kurt had to take a deep breath to stop himself from throwing up all over Karofsky, which would have only made things worse.

"I can see you're asking for it," David murmured, one of his hands trailing down Kurt's shoulder to his chest. "And even though you don't deserve it… I'm gonna give it to you…"

His fingers closed around Kurt's arm in deathly tight grip, and dragged him, forcing him to follow. Kurt tried to fight it, but Karofsky was so strong, so much bigger than him, there was no way to resist it. He panicked when he saw where David was taking him. The last time they had been alone together in the locker room, David had stolen his first kiss.

Was he planning to do it again? Terror washed over him, as he struggled and tried to yell, but David shoved him through the door, and the impact cut it off.

Once they were in the locker room, Karofsky released him, with one last push. Kurt lurched, off balance, and landed on his hands and knees on the cold, dirty floor, trying to catch his breath. He heard David's steps, approaching him slowly, taking his time.

"That's how you like it, don't you? On your hands and knees?" His voice echoed against the walls, stabbing Kurt everywhere, sending pangs of absolute terror all over his body.

He breathed out shakily and made himself look up, to find David's eyes, and fix his on them. "Please…" He murmured, hoping for a scrap of humanity to surface in David. "Please, let me go. I just want to get to class…"

"Why should I let you go?" Karofsky asked, tilting his head to the side, and coming to a decision. He crouched in front of Kurt. "Really, Hummel, what do you have to lose? Don't you know how guys like you end? Whether you kill yourself because you can't take any of this anymore, or you find a way to survive. And you know what? I'm offering you a way out."

Kurt blinked in confusion, but didn't dare to ask what he was talking about. Images of himself lying cold and dead in his coffin, and ending all this misery suddenly invaded his mind, and they didn't look bad at all. He had already lost everything, so what did he have left to lose?

"Don't you want my help? Don't you want to walk around this school without being afraid all the time? Wouldn't you like that?"

Kurt bit his lip. That sounded too good to be true, but the price he'd have to pay for it wouldn't be cheap. "W-what do you want from me?" He asked in a tiny voice.

David smiled, slowly. He stood up and unzipped his jeans. "I want you to be the good, little slut I know you are."

Kurt's eyes went wide with fear and a cold sweat broke out over his body, as he watched Karofsky pull his pants and underwear aside and take his cock out. He wondered distantly if someone would come in and help him if he screamed.

He wondered if it was even worth trying.

Why would anyone help him?

"Come on, Hummel. Put those nice lips to use," Karofsky said in a hoarse voice, and then reached for the back of Kurt's head, tangling his fingers in his hair to pull him closer, until the head of his cock was pushing against his lips.

Karofsky's grip on his hair became tighter, until Kurt opened his mouth to cry out in pain, and suddenly his mouth was crammed full of hot hard flesh. He felt himself choking a few times, as David tugged on his hair to thrust into his mouth. The locker room filled with Karofsky's groans, and then tears began raining down Kurt's cheeks.

And that was when Kurt knew he was broken beyond repair. Everything had been taken away from him, and fighting didn't seem important anymore. What was the point in fighting when he could never win? So, instead, he gave in, he let David use him until he came in his mouth, and he just sat there and took it without protest.

Karofsky was tucking himself back in as Kurt slumped paralyzed on his knees, eyes unfocused and lost, when the locker room door opened and one of the boys from the football team walked in, and then stopped in his tracks, staring at the scene before him with wide eyes.

"Karofsky, what the hell? Are you a fag too, now?" He asked scandalized.

Kurt could see Karofsky panic for a second, but then he forced a smile on his face as he finished fixing his clothes. "Are you kidding me? Never. But have you seen Hummel? He's almost a girl, and with a mouth like his, it's like being with one. Can you believe he came onto me in the hallway and told me he'd suck me off for twenty bucks?" He fished a twenty from his jeans pocket and threw it at Kurt. "There you go, Lady Hummel." He laughed and started walking out of the room, patting his friend on the back as he passed by him.

Kurt was still in the very same spot, a bitter taste in his mouth, feeling dirtier than he had ever felt. He realized the other boy was still there, and for a second, he wondered if he was going to hit him for corrupting one of his _straight_ friends.

"So, twenty bucks for a blowjob?" The jock asked, and Kurt looked up to see he had moved closer. He chuckled, buried his hand in his pocket, and threw more money at Kurt. "You'd better make it worth every cent, then, Hummel."

As he heard the sound of a zipper echoing in the silence of the locker room for the second time in less than half an hour, Kurt bit back his tears and accepted the way things were now. And once his second _customer_ of the day was also gone, smiling and satisfied, Kurt stood up on wobbly legs, with forty dollars in his fist, and made his way out of the school and back to his house as quickly as he could.

As soon as he walked through the front door, he finally allowed his legs to give in, and he collapsed on the wooden floor, where he started emptying the contents of his stomach.

* * *

At first, Kurt didn't notice anything unusual when he arrived at school the next morning. It took a little while for him to realize no one was harassing him, or throwing him against lockers, or calling him names.

He was on his way to the cafeteria for lunch, when a guy he'd never seen before wearing a McKinley's marching band uniform, stood in front of him, stopping Kurt in his tracks. He stared at him, without saying a word and with a twenty dollar bill in his hand.

Kurt looked down at the money for a few seconds, then slowly nodded and followed him into one of the bathrooms, his stomach clenched with disgust.

From that day on, Kurt began carrying condoms in his messenger bag, and spent most of his free time in the last stall of the boys' bathroom, earning enough money to get by, without having to touch his college fund.

No one ever really talked about it, but everyone knew that Kurt Hummel was the school's whore.

Even Kurt himself knew it.

* * *

When Kurt left McKinley behind, he thought he would also leave those memories behind too.

A week before starting classes at OSU, he packed his things, sold the house he had grown up in, and drove to Columbus to start what he hoped would be a new life.

A small, still hopeful part of him still dreamed that with a major in Voice and Performance Arts, he would work on Broadway one day. Just because he was stuck here in Ohio now, depressed and emotionally broken, it didn't mean he couldn't start preparing for that day.

The problem with college life was that all students are broke. Kurt wasn't the exception. He had barely enough to pay tuition, but he couldn't make ends meet, even with a job as a waiter in a diner. After starving for a couple of weeks, he went to one of his dorm's parties and looked for the drunkest guy he could find. He whispered in his ear, in a sultry voice what he would do and what it would cost… and five minutes later he was on his knees in a closet.

Kurt hated himself for giving in, he really did. He hated that he had allowed others to break him, to take his self-respect away from him, the only thing that he had salvaged from his childhood. He hated what Karofsky had done to him, and all the boys at McKinley had made of him.

But mostly, he hated himself because he had allowed it to happen. Because he had another way out, but he was too much of a coward to take it.

And now, he tried not to feel anything anymore. He just moved through life, let random guys fuck his mouth or his fist, and that was that. Nothing mattered anymore.

For the first time, Kurt was glad his father was dead. If Burt could see him now, he would be so disappointed in his son…

Kurt didn't allow himself to think of his dad anymore. It hurt too much. And hurting meant he felt things. Kurt was so done with feeling anything at all.

He just wanted everything to stop hurting.

* * *

The first time Kurt allowed a stranger to fuck him, he cried. His power was about to be turned off, he had had no food in three days, and the guy had offered him fifty bucks. He had hit rock bottom, and even though he'd lost everything, giving this last vestige of his innocence felt like the final violation.

He had barely managed to graduate college, but he was too drained to consider starting over in New York. He simply could not rally the effort to get there, just to fail again. What was the point in trying? What was the point in going to New York now? He was a whore in Ohio; he would be a whore in New York. There were no other options for him.

He lived in a crappy rundown apartment all by himself, because that was all he could afford, whenever the weather got dismal and his customers stayed home with their wives. He had no friends, and he had never had anything close to a boyfriend. He had no hope for his future. When he wasn't letting strangers use him, he drove back to Lima to parents' grave, and let the misery scour him hollow.

Most men just wanted a quick and dirty encounter and left before anyone saw them, but one night, a customer took his bitterness out on Kurt, because he hated that he was continually driven to fuck men, and intentionally hurt him. He threw the money at him and left him, barely able to crawl home.

But as soon as he was able to move again, he went to the cemetery. He sat there and cried, and asked his dad to forgive him for what he was doing, asked them both to come back even though it was useless.

He was sick of crying and goddamn done with feeling sorry for himself. He had to just accept that this was his life now.

What was the point in crying? What would feeling sorry for himself change? Why couldn't he just accept, once and for all, that this was his life?

He dried his tears with the sleeve of his coat and stood. That was the moment when Kurt Hummel's heart turned into stone.

It was so much easier that way.

* * *

When Blaine stood before him that night and offered him more money than he usually made in a month, and then assured him that he wouldn't have to do anything sexual, just pretend to be his boyfriend for a week, Kurt had to make a huge effort not to show his skepticism, because he couldn't believe what this guy proposed. Blaine's offer sounded like a dream to him, though he'd stopped believing in happy endings long ago.

He didn't really believe that he meant what he said, but that kind of money and a whole week off the streets, not having to let any disgusting strangers touch him? Kurt couldn't remember the last time he had taken a whole week off. Not working meant he didn't eat, and only made it harder to go back. So he seldom allowed himself time off, except when he was sick.

He could tell Blaine was nervous. He was twisting his dog's leash between his hands, looking at Kurt eagerly, as if Kurt was the only one who could save him.

Kurt forced a flirtatious smirk on his face and moved a little closer, placing his hand on Blaine's arm. "Who could say no to _you_, mm?" He murmured with a purr. "Darling, I'm in."

He would've laughed at Blaine's sigh of relief if he wasn't secretly just as relieved.

* * *

Blaine walked away after giving Kurt his card, watching with a gaping mouth, as he slipped it into his leather shorts with a smirk. Kurt decided he could just as well call it a night, if his rent was paid for the month.

The scratch of the card against his hip was comforting, as he moved quickly along the streets, keeping his eyes down and his arms wrapped around himself. It was chilly, and though he was used to being lightly clothed outdoors at night, he could never quite stop the tense shiver running down his spine. He fished a cigarette out of his back pocket, hoping it'd give him some warmth until he made it to his apartment.

Kurt lived in the cheapest part of town, which meant it also wasn't the safest. He was used to walking down his block and hearing jeers and shouts directed his way, but that didn't make it any less unpleasant. A group of young men gathered around an old car (were they stripping it or working on it?) turned their attention towards him when Kurt neared.

"Hey, slut! Did you suck any dick tonight?"

"Or did someone suck yours?"

"What are you talking about, idiot? He probably doesn't even have a dick!"

They laughed obnoxiously. Kurt exhaled the smoke of his cigarette, trying to look detached, superior, and untouchable. He turned the next corner and couldn't hear them anymore, so he exhaled shakily and swallowed his terror.

His father had told him that he was better than anyone, and that as soon as he finished high school, he would take the world by storm. Kurt thought the ignorance and the criticism wouldn't matter anymore. No one would be screaming their hatred at him as he walked down the hallways or across the parking lot towards his car. Everything would change for the better.

Nothing was better, and things had actually changed for the worse.

Kurt lived in a tiny studio apartment. The walls were painted in a muted grey reminiscent of the Dior grey of his bedroom when he was a teenager. The heating seldom work, the bathroom was so small he could barely turn around without hitting the wall, and the only window faced a brick wall. There was a bundle of blankets and a pillow on the couch where he slept, and leftover Chinese food on the coffee table. There were very few personal items or photographs because Kurt couldn't bear seeing his father's smiling face staring back at him. He didn't want his dad to see the way he lived, not even through paper eyes.

He sat on the edge of the couch and began unlacing his boots, wriggling his toes in relief, and then slipped on socks to warm up. He took off the rest of his_ work clothes_, and put Blaine's card on the coffee table. He looked at it for a few seconds, before he dressed in loose sweatpants and big Hummel Tires and Lube sweatshirt that had belonged to his father that still had a grease stain he'd put on the sleeve. He padded the three strides that separated him from the kitchen area, and chose a can of soup to warm for dinner. There was a time when he would've thrown a hissy fit if his father even suggested eating canned food, but Kurt didn't really enjoy cooking anymore. Not having anyone to cook for made it a lot less rewarding.

He went back to the couch when the soup was hot, cupping the bowl between his hands and letting its heat seep through his bones. He sat with his knees to his chest and reached for one of the blankets, wrapping it around himself. He didn't know why, he needed extra comfort and warmth today.

The card was still on the coffee table. Kurt's eyes couldn't tear themselves away from it, from the seven little numbers written under that name, Blaine D. Anderson. On one hand, the man's offer meant security – having enough money to eat for weeks (fuck, even _months_). He could stay off the streets for a whole week, not having to smell the alcohol on his clients' breaths, when they offered him money to do what they needed from him, before they went home to their wives and children, guilt eating them alive.

But on the other hand… this felt too good to be true. Something was bound to go wrong. Pretty boy probably wouldn't show up or something. Opportunities like this didn't fall onto Kurt's lap. He ruthlessly squashed the quiver of excitement he could feel trying to revive in him. But something about Blaine's offer made him tingle with anticipation.

Even if he did show up, what would happen if he couldn't play his part believably? Blaine had to be desperate, because a guy like him was nobody's idea of a boyfriend. No one in their right mind would ever take him home to meet their parents, holding his hand proudly. Kurt had once dreamed of acting, becoming a star with his name in Broadway lights, but now the dream was dead.

He was a prostitute. He was prostitute and he was broken in too many pieces now, to ever put back together. As soon as Blaine realized that, the deal would be forgotten, and Kurt would have to go back to being a broken little toy everyone played too roughly with, before they threw him away.

Kurt closed his eyes, forbid the tears gathering in his eyes to fall down his cheeks, and ate his dinner.

* * *

**WARNINGS: Explicit non-con, minor character death (only mentioned), and just overall angst.**

**I'm not gonna lie, it feels good getting this chapter out of the way. I've never tortured any of my characters as much I tortured Kurt here, but it was necessary for the plotline. I was advised to change the locker room scene and make it a little lighter, but after what I put myself through writing it, and knowing how important it was to give the exact details on why Kurt became what he is, I thought I just needed to keep it that way. I hope it wasn't too much and I certainly hope I haven't scared anyone away. Please, tell me what you thought about it - constructive criticism is very helpful.**

**Thank you again for reading. I'll see you guys next week!**

**L.-**


	3. Chapter 3

**Hi guys :)**

**Thank you SO much for the support and positive feedback you've sent my way about chapter 2. It was really difficult getting that out, but now it's behind us! **

**No warnings for this one. I'm actually quite proud of how it turned out, so I hope you'll like it.**

**All my love goes out to my betas, Wutif and Christine, who are the best, of course :)**

**I own nothing!**

* * *

When Blaine woke the next morning, he had to convince himself that it hadn't all been some insane dream.

He had asked a prostitute to pretend to be his boyfriend. He was going to take a prostitute to his parents' house. A prostitute was going to be his date to his parents' anniversary party.

He had clearly lost his mind.

Blaine groaned into his pillow. He had definitely hit rock bottom. The worst part was that he simply couldn't imagine himself backing out and arriving at his parents' door alone. Maybe hiring a prostitute made him desperate and pathetic, but fuck it, he _would _go through with it.

No one had to know that the man he took there as a date wasn't Paul.

No one had to know he had to _pay_ to actually have a date.

Blaine groaned again, feeling his self-esteem shrink more with every new thought that crossed his mind.

His snooze alarm went off again, letting him know he had to get up now, or be late for work, so he reluctantly slipped out of bed and padded to the bathroom. Next, he needed a gallon of coffee, because it was going to be a very, very long day.

When he returned to his bedroom, showered, shaved and with the first cup of coffee in his hand, he considered what to wear for the day. He unplugged his phone and found a text message from an unknown number waiting for him.

_Here's my number in case you need to contact me. Let me know where and when you want to meet today._

There was only one person that messaged could be from. Blaine was about to save the number, but then realized he didn't know the man's name. Adding him to his contacts as "Prostitute" didn't really seem right.

_From: Blaine_

_I can pick you up at your place, if you want. We'll be leaving around 4 to be in Westerville on time for dinner. You haven't told me your name yet, by the way._

He put the phone down on the nightstand and turned back to his closet to choose his outfit. It buzzed with a new message just a few seconds later.

_I'd rather meet you somewhere else._

Blaine frowned. He guessed it made sense for the man to be careful, but if he was going to be so guarded Blaine was doubtful they could pull this off. Blaine didn't really need the man to trust him completely – and hell, Blaine wasn't going to trust him that easily either. He knew absolutely nothing about the man, other than he provided his services for money – but he needed him to at least be comfortable enough around him for everyone to believe they were a couple.

He had a foreboding feeling that this whole thing was going to explode in his face in the end.

_From: Blaine._

_What about meeting at the Starbucks downtown? We'll get some coffee for the road._

This time the man's buzzed his phone with just a simple "_Ok._"

Blaine took a deep breath to stifle his reservations.

_From: Blaine._

_I would really like to know your name. It would make things easier._

Blaine was already dressed and halfway through his second cup of coffee when the phone vibrated in his pocket. He had had already begun to suspect the reply would never come.

_It's Kurt._

Blaine was smiling as he added the number and name to his contact list. Somehow, this little victory felt like a sign that things might work out okay, after all.

He typed one last message and then left for work, patting Nayla's head goodbye on his way out.

_From: Blaine_

_I'll see you at four, Kurt._

* * *

All the kids in Blaine's class were excited about the impending break. Blaine stopped on his way to work at a little bakery and bought a couple dozen cookies to share with them in a little party to start the break with a bang. They talked about their family's plans, made pretty drawings, sang some songs, and then Blaine read them a book about a boy's adventures during a camping trip. Everyone was excited for the weekend to start by the time their parents arrived to pick them up at the end of the day. At least, everyone except for Blaine.

"We didn't ask what you're going to do during the break, Mr. A!" Little Sarah exclaimed, clearly horrified, as she hugged his leg.

_I'm going to take a prostitute to my parents' house and try to pass him off as my date, oh my god_. "I'm going home to visit my family," he answered, trying to smile brightly.

"Oh! You're going to have a great time, aren't you? And you're going to miss us, right?" She asked, big green eyes looking up at him.

Blaine bent down to kiss the top of her head. "Of course I will. I always miss you guys."

Sarah smiled and waved over her shoulder as she ran to meet her mother, who was waiting for her at the door.

Blaine took a deep breath when the classroom was empty. It was easy to pretend he wasn't nervous when he was surrounded by his kids, but now that there was nothing to occupy him except for cleaning up the mess they had left behind, Blaine began seriously doubting what he was about to do.

He walked around the classroom, picking up drawings that had been left behind, putting the crayons back in the box where they belonged, and tidying everything up, knowing he was trying to buy time that he didn't really have to spare.

He didn't know why he didn't just call Kurt, back out of this deal and cancel this whole thing.

Was there really a point to all this? Wasn't it much easier to just admit to his family that he had been dumped _again_?

He wished that he could just hide under the blankets in his bed and disappear, but despite the heavy feeling of dread weighing on him, Blaine turned his classroom's lights off and walked out of school, resigned to going through with it.

* * *

Blaine arrived a little late at Starbucks, at ten past four. It wasn't usual for him to be late, but some last minute packing decisions and a Dalmatian that had decided she wasn't in the mood for a car ride had made everything take longer than it should have. He wrapped his fingers around the steering wheel one last time, closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He could do this. He could definitely do this.

He looked out the car window at the people passing by the coffee shop entrance. It was a very busy time, because the door kept swinging open and closed as more people went for their caffeine fix, blending into a sea of men and women in blue, black and grey business attire. For a moment he thought Kurt had gotten lost among them. But when Blaine's eyes finally fell on him, just a few steps away from the door, he couldn't believe he hadn't spotted him, standing out among the crowd.

Kurt looked so different here, in the sunlight. Blaine had barely perceived him in the dark night, but here, he could see every detail: the way the sun reflected on his pale skin, the exact chestnut shade of his hair, the deep blue of his eyes. If Blaine had found him stunning last night, then there was absolutely no word to describe how truly attractive Kurt was now.

His back was against the wall, deliberately posed to look casual and carefree, with his long legs stretched out in front of him, seeming endless in those tight white jeans. He was wearing a soft-looking red sweater that fell from his shoulders perfectly and a pair of black boots that hugged his calves, making his legs look even longer. Blaine wondered, for just a split second, if those were the same boots he had worn the previous night, but then he shook the question away, resolving to ignore that image.

Kurt was smoking, the cigarette touching his lips almost teasingly, seductively, as if contact with Kurt's mouth was something to be savored.

And then Blaine saw right through his façade. Kurt's eyes were anxiously sweeping the crowd around him, searching. He was holding a black duffel bag, his grip so tight that Blaine could see his whitened knuckles. There was no authenticity to Kurt's icy untouchable attitude. And as he sat there watching him, Blaine couldn't help but ask himself another question: what could've possibly happened in Kurt's life to put him in the life he was leading now?

A million other questions followed that one. _Does he have debts? Is this really his only job? Is he only on the streets until he finds something else or does he go out there at night because he _wants_ to? Does his family know what he does for a living?_

Kurt flicked the cigarette away and fished his cell phone out of his pocket. Blaine could see hesitation in the way his shoulders shifted, how he was already considering walking away, just as insecure as Blaine.

Blaine wasn't certain of a lot of things, but he knew he couldn't let Kurt walk away, not when he needed him.

With one more searching look around, Kurt sighed, shoved the phone back into his pocket and stepped away from the wall, obviously done waiting. Blaine had to rush out of the car before he could actually leave.

"Kurt, hey," he called after him, a little breathless.

Kurt turned with a quirked eyebrow. "You're late."

Blaine could hear the resentment in his voice, for making him doubt that he was going to show. "I know, I'm really sorry," he said with an apologetic smile. "I had to finish packing after work and I thought I would make it here on time, but..."

"I thought you were backing out of our deal." Again, Kurt's fingers tightened on his duffel bag, the only visible sign of anxiety. Blaine would've missed it if he hadn't noticed it before, from the car.

"I need your help, don't I? I asked you to help me for a reason," Blaine shrugged, and then fished an envelope out of his pocket, and extended it to Kurt. Kurt knew that it contained half of his payment, as they had agreed. "I'm not backing out." _Even though I know I'm insane and I _should_ back out..._

Kurt didn't say anything as he took the money. He simply stared at Blaine with those intense blue eyes that seemed to pierce through his skin. Time stretched thin, but Blaine didn't break their gaze. It looked as if Kurt was looking for something deep inside him, trying to read him to decide if he should actually go ahead and get into this guy's car.

Finally, Kurt sighed and shoved the envelope into his bag. "Okay, then. Let's go."

Blaine sighed too, exhaling in relief. Apparently he had passed whatever test Kurt had given him. "I'd like to get a coffee first, if that's okay?"

Kurt raised one of his shoulders in a shrug. "Yeah, sure, whatever."

The line at Starbucks had decreased considerably by the time they both walked inside. Kurt was fidgeting uncomfortably next to him as they waited, pointedly avoiding looking at Blaine, which gave Blaine another chance to get another good look at him.

Up close, Blaine could see how tiny his waist was, how his sharp hipbones were easy to distinguish even through the layers of clothing. Kurt was almost too thin, and Blaine's caring instincts seemed to kick in as they got to the counter.

"Hi. I'd like a medium drip and..." He looked at Kurt, waiting for him to fill in.

"Oh. A, uhm, non-fat mocha?" He ventured, as if he was asking permission to order that.

Blaine smiled brightly at the barista. "Medium drip, a grande non-fat mocha and a couple of blueberry muffins, please."

As they waited at the end of the counter for their drinks, silence fell between them, and Blaine realized Kurt wasn't exactly eager to chat. Blaine wasn't sure how he was going to make this work if Kurt didn't even try to interact with him.

The weekend was bound to be a disaster.

He guided Kurt back outside and towards his car, where Nayla had evidently gotten bored and fallen asleep on the backseat. Kurt stopped in his tracks when he saw her.

"You brought the dog," he said accusingly.

Blaine smiled brightly, convinced that Kurt just needed to meet his dog to love her. "Yes, her name is Nayla!"

"You didn't say you'd bring the dog," Kurt arched an eyebrow as he looked at the beautiful animal sprawled over the seat.

Blaine's smile faded a bit. "You don't like dogs?"

"I don't like any living creatures," Kurt answered.

"_You_ are a living creature, too, you know," Blaine commented, trying to tease him to lighten the mood.

It didn't work.

"Exactly," Kurt murmured, as he got into the car, sitting on the passenger side without another word.

Blaine swallowed and took a deep breath before following.

It was going to be a very long ride.

* * *

While they drank their coffees, the lack of conversation didn't weigh down on them. But as soon as the cups were empty, the silence seemed to choke them; it was awkward, and not even the radio playing softly in the background helped.

Surprisingly, it was Kurt who broke it. With a sigh, he shifted in his seat to (finally) look at Blaine. "So... I guess you'd better tell me more about your family and yourself if you want this to look realistic."

"Oh, right. Yes, of course!" Blaine exclaimed, relieved that Kurt had thought of that. "Well, uhm, it's my parents' anniversary and they are throwing a party, so that's why we're going. My dad's a pediatrician, and my mom has a clothing boutique. My brother will be coming, too. He's an actor and lives in LA."

"Really," Kurt murmured, failing to sound impressed. "Has he done any movies I might recognize?"

"Not really. He's done mostly commercials. But he's been recently cast in a TV show. They're currently filming the pilot. He has the lead, so if it's picked up, it will be his first big break since he moved there. He's really excited, so I'm sure you'll hear _all_ about it from Cooper," Blaine explained, a fond smile on his lips.

"And what about you?" Kurt asked.

"I'm a kindergarten teacher," Blaine replied, still smiling.

One of Kurt's perfectly lined eyebrows quirked. "Seriously? You're a kindergarten teacher?"

"Yes," Blaine confirmed, frowning. "Why?"

"Nothing. I'm just imagining the trouble you could get into if the parents of your tiny little students found out you hired a prostitute."

Blaine stepped on the brakes almost violently, making the car shudder to an abrupt stop. Luckily, there weren't any cars around to pile into them.

Blaine turned to look at Kurt with wide eyes. He was gripping the dashboard with Blaine's sudden stop, speechless with surprise. "Was that some kind of threat? Are you planning to ask me for more money to keep your mouth shut about this?"

Kurt crossed his arms over his chest, defensively. "_Excuse me?_ Just because I'm a whore it doesn't mean I'm a criminal..."

Kurt sounded deeply affronted and Blaine immediately regretted his accusation. He ran a hand through his hair, awkwardly.

"I'm sorry," he muttered. "I didn't mean to offend you. I'm just so incredibly nervous about this going well. I know it may not make a whole lot of sense to you, but I need this week to go smoothly. I-I've never in my life hired anyone like you for anything before... but I don't want to be disrespectful. I'm sorry, Kurt."

The silence stretched between them for a few more seconds, Nayla's quiet breaths audible as she napped in the backseat. Kurt wasn't looking at him anymore – his cold blue eyes were fixed on some point outside the car, almost stubbornly.

"You should keep driving or we'll never get there," he finally said.

It didn't feel like Kurt was accepting his apology, but Blaine guessed that was the best he was going to get, so he complied.

* * *

Relief washed over Blaine as soon as they got to Westerville. The entire ride with Kurt had been uncomfortable, to say the least. They had been silent most of the time, neither of them exactly sure what to talk about. Every time Blaine opened his mouth, he felt as if he was walking on a mine field, anxious he'd set Kurt off again.

Kurt, on the other hand, seemed to prefer the silence. His blue eyes focused on whatever was passing his window, his arms crossed tightly over his chest. Blaine glanced at him a few times, but he just couldn't figure the other man out: Kurt was unreadable. Blaine tried turning up the volume of the radio on a song that Kurt obviously liked because he was moving his foot with the rhythm, but he stopped as soon as he realized Blaine had noticed.

Blaine had no idea how they were going to pass as loving boyfriends when they couldn't even engage in a conversation or look at each other.

The Andersons lived in one of the nicest neighborhoods in Westerville. As Blaine drove down the street where he had grown up, the houses became more luxurious with every one they passed. His parents lived in a beautiful two-story greystone house with an imposing oak double door. It was obvious Blaine's mother had been spending time in the garden, because there were newly planted flowerbeds under the windows, giving the front of the residence a more colorful appearance.

As soon as Blaine parked in the driveway of his parents' magnificent house, Kurt finally uncrossed his arms and leaned forward in his seat, wide eyes fixed. "Holy _shit_."

"Uhm," it was Blaine's turn to shift uncomfortably on his seat. "They're expecting us, so we should…" He paused and gripped the steering wheel tighter. "Listen. I know this must all seem stupid to you… but please, do your best to help me out."

Kurt moved the rearview mirror so he could fix his hair, without sparing a glance at Blaine. "Don't worry yourself about it. You're paying me, and I always deliver good value for my money."

Blaine swallowed, wondering if he was crazy one last time, and opened the door to exit the car.

He let Nayla out of the vehicle and, by the time he handed Kurt his bag, his mother was stepping outside the front door with a welcoming smile, making warmth flood through Blaine. For a moment, he was five years old again and all he wanted to do was lose himself in her hug, close his eyes and forget about all his problems.

Grace Anderson was a petite but stunning woman. Her ebony hair was held back in an elegant twist and her bright hazel eyes reflected her happiness to see her youngest son. She opened her arms wide, waiting for Blaine to walk right into them.

"Blaine, dear!" She exclaimed. Her smile was so wide that it made crow-feet appear beside her expressive eyes, but she was still gorgeous. "I'm so happy you're here!"

"Hi, Mom," he said, with the first authentic smile in days, as he put his suitcase down and hugged her. The familiar delicate floral scent of her perfume comforted him instantly.

She pulled away after a few seconds, but kept an arm around him as she turned to Kurt, who Blaine had completely forgotten about. "And you must be Paul! It's so great to finally meet you, darling!"

Kurt's smile was a bit strained and nervous, but it could've easily passed as anxiety over meeting his boyfriend's mother. He held his hand out politely. "It's wonderful to finally meet you as well, Mrs. Anderson."

Grace used his hand to pull him into a hug as well. "Oh don't be silly. You're family already. Just call me Grace."

Kurt seemed stunned to find himself in some strange woman's embrace. His eyes seemed ready to bulge out of his skull and his arms were flailing awkwardly at his sides. Blaine could see Kurt's muscles tense. It was almost as if Kurt didn't even know what getting a hug was like.

Grace let go of both of them to lean over to greet Nayla with a scratch behind her ears, leaving Blaine and Kurt looking at each other. Kurt still seemed a bit freaked out, so Blaine decided to distract his mother so Kurt would have time to shake off whatever was upsetting him.

"So, uhm, where's dad?" Blaine asked, grabbing his suitcase again.

Grace gestured for them to follow her inside. "He's been in his studio for the last couple of hours, doing God knows what. You know how he is when he gets caught up with something… oh, here he is!"

Henry Anderson was a tall, handsome man. He had penetrating blue eyes and thick, dark brown hair threaded with silver. While Blaine took after his mother, Cooper, Blaine's brother, was nearly Henry's double. They were so similar that you got a very accurate idea of how Cooper would look in twenty years or so.

Henry smiled happily as he approached them. "Good to see you, son," he muttered as he pulled Blaine into a hug and patted his back affectionately. "How was the drive?"

"It was alright," Blaine cleared his throat and looked at Kurt. "Dad, this is Paul. Paul, this is Henry Anderson."

"Pleasure, sir," Kurt said, once again holding his hand out. To his relief, Henry didn't hug him.

"Relax, Paul. We've heard so much about you already that we feel like you're one of our sons!" Henry exclaimed jovially. "Besides, anyone who makes Blaine as happy as he's been since you two met, definitely has nothing to worry about from me!"

Blaine glanced at Kurt almost pleadingly. He needed him to relax and act as normally as possible or everything would collapse.

Just the thought of it made Blaine's stomach churn with guilt.

Kurt seemed to have gotten the message because he shifted closer to Blaine and possessively wrapped an arm around his waist. His fingers tightened on his hip and pulled him closer, until their bodies were glued together. His breath hit Blaine's ear when he spoke and a smirk was clear in his voice. "Not as happy as this gorgeous man makes _me_."

Blaine gulped and tried to force a smile on his face. Kurt's words had been a bit suggestive and the way they were touching felt too intimate considering his parents were watching them.

He laughed nervously and tried putting a few inches of distance between he and Kurt. "Well, I think we should go upstairs to freshen up…"

"Oh, yes, yes, of course! You must be tired, driving all the way here after work!" Grace said. She pointed up the stairs. "Blaine, your room is all ready for you two. If there's anything else you need, just let me know…"

"M-my room is ready?" Blaine babbled. He hadn't really thought about where Kurt would sleep…

"Of course, silly! You're not a kid anymore and neither of us is going to pretend you two don't share a bed on a regular basis anyway!" Grace laughed as Henry shook his head fondly. "You're an adult now, Blaine."

Blaine rolled his eyes and laughed as well, as if he couldn't believe how stupid he was. "You're right. I guess being home makes me feel like I'm a kid again…"

Henry patted each of them, on the shoulder. "Don't worry about it, boys. Go get comfortable and we'll let you know when dinner's ready."

Leading Kurt down the hallway to his old room was just as silent as the drive from Columbus. He could hear Kurt's steps trailing behind him, but neither dared say anything, until Blaine closed the door behind them.

"Oh, shit, shit, shit! This was a huge mistake!" Blaine mumbled, leaning against the door and dropping his face in his hands.

Kurt put his bag carefully on the bed and turned to look at him. Once again, it was impossible to read his feelings. "It could've gone a lot worse."

"Worse?" Blaine's eyes fixed on him and his hands went down in defeat. "Kurt… you can't just hold me against you like that and say those things…"

Kurt sighed. He threw his arms over his head, exasperated. "Well, then what the hell do you want me to do, Blaine?"

"I need you to act more like a boyfriend who's comfortable around me and less like a total stranger I'm paying to be here!" Blaine answered, careful not to raise his voice too much.

"I'm a prostitute, not an actor," Kurt spat drily. "You know, this is a very far cry from what I usually do with my clients."

Blaine sighed, equally as frustrated. "Okay. We both need to calm down a little." He ran a hand through his hair, tangling his curls, and looked at Kurt with pleading hazel eyes. "Look, Kurt… you don't have to like me. You don't even have to talk to me when my parents aren't around. You can ignore me and I won't complain. But when we're with them… they need to believe that we're in love. They won't buy it if you go from glaring at me to practically feeling me up in front of them."

Kurt pinched the bridge of his nose and then turned away to ransack his bag until he found a package of cigarettes. At Blaine's disapproving glare, he went to the window, opened it and sat on the edge before lighting the cigarette. He took a long drag out of it and exhaled slowly, aiming the smoke outside. "I don't think I've told you this yet, but I think you're very stupid for doing something like this."

Kurt wasn't exactly agreeing to do what Blaine needed, but it wasn't a no, either. Blaine sat down heavily on the bed and watched Kurt as he filled his lungs with toxic smoke. "I think I am, too," he said tiredly.

* * *

Kurt followed Blaine into the dining room, and felt like he was in a waking dream. He had gotten so used to eating nuked meals, that he had forgotten how the smell of homemade food made him think of _home_, how much it made him ache for days that were long gone.

He looked around to distract himself from his rekindled grief. The big mahogany table was meant for more than the four people that would be sitting for dinner tonight, but it still managed to look cozy and welcoming. Nayla was lying under it, her tail wagging slowly, as she watched Grace walk in from the kitchen carrying a basket of bread, ever optimistic that she would drop a piece. The walls, painted in a soft shade of green complemented the view of the backyard coming.

Family pictures were scattered here and there. Kurt saw the two boys on a family picnic, in their best clothes at a party, sitting next to the Christmas tree, covered in mud after a soccer game. Little Blaine had a head full of curls and a huge smile in all of them. He looked happy and loved. Kurt had wonderful memories of his own childhood, but they were smudged and distorted, painted over with the bad stuff that had come afterwards.

"Paul, are you coming?" Blaine's voice said from behind him, distracting him from staring at the pictures, while everyone else was already at the table. Blaine had pulled a chair out for him, and was waiting for him to take the seat.

Kurt stifled his surprise at Blaine's chivalry, unused to anyone treating him like that. Blaine probably pulled out chairs for everyone, not just his boyfriends.

He smiled as genuinely as he could. His fingers brushed Blaine's on the back of the chair. "Thanks, darling," he muttered, remembering to keep the usual purr out of his voice. He was used to saying those words to his customers after taking their cash, looking at them coyly from under his eyelashes to make them believe he'd had an amazing time.

"I made Blaine's favorite lasagna," Grace announced, as Blaine took his own seat, looking relieved that Kurt was cooperating. She served the lasagna onto the plates and passed one to each of them. "I always try to make it when he comes home."

"And that's the reason I wish I could come home more often," Blaine said with a warm smile as he accepted the plate she passed him. "Nothing will ever compare to your cooking."

"I hope you're not living on take out again," she reprimanded him softly. "You need to eat properly, Blaine. You're not a kid anymore."

"I promise I'm eating as healthy as I can. I cook pretty much every night and I only order take out on Fridays when I'm just too tired to even care," Blaine protested and then took the first bite off his lasagna. He closed his eyes blissfully and moaned around the fork in a way that made Kurt blush, and he made men _come_ for a living. He had heard a lot of embarrassing sounds coming out of them. "Mom, this is fantastic."

"I'm glad you think so, dear," Grace laughed. "What about you, Paul? Do you like to cook, too?"

Kurt thought back to the days when he had tried teaching his dad how to make a soufflé. He thought about his mother's recipes books and that summer when he had been completely obsessed with French cuisine. He thought of Burt's suspicious frown at whatever gourmet dish he had wanted to try that week, every time Kurt put a plate in front of him on the kitchen table.

He swallowed his mouthful of lasagna with difficulty.

"Not very much," he answered simply, once again banishing the memories to the back of his mind. "Only rarely, when I'm in the mood."

He was incredibly relieved when Henry changed the subject and asked Blaine about his job. Blaine immediately launched into a story about something one of his students had done that week. Kurt allowed himself to relax and eat – and damn, was he hungry. He had only had a Mocha and a muffin all day.

"Blaine said you are a receptionist at a hospital, Paul," Henry said once Blaine was done with his story, to include his son's boyfriend into the conversation. "Do you like working there?"

Had Blaine told him _anything_ about Paul's job? Kurt couldn't remember. He was working at that desk job while he was supposed to be getting a Master's Degree or something… "It's okay, I suppose. It was rough, uhm, at first, getting used to seeing all those… wounds. And, uhm, blood and… pregnant ladies."

Grace and Henry stared at him strangely. Kurt wished he could disappear, knowing he had screwed something up. Blaine nudged his foot under table, signaling him to shut up before he dug himself a deeper hole.

"He means cats. Pregnant cats and dogs," Blaine interjected quickly to save the situation. "There was a cat that had a horrifying labor this week. He's still a little sensitive about it." Blaine patted his hand and gave him a fondly sympathetic look.

"Oh, did the poor thing and her kittens come through it alright?" Grace asked, visibly concerned.

"Yes, she was okay, once the kittens were out," Kurt looked down at his plate, hoping no one would ask him any more questions and put more food in his mouth so he wouldn't have to talk.

He would seriously need to ask Blaine for more information about this Paul guy.

* * *

The sound of running water in the adjacent bathroom was all Kurt could hear in the silence of the night. Blaine was taking a shower, after insisting gallantly that he would be fine sleeping on the couch and that Kurt could take the bed. Kurt was lying on his back under the blankets, staring at the ceiling. Even though the bed was incredibly comfortable, he was tense. He couldn't help it.

He and Blaine hadn't spoken much after dinner. Blaine's parents suggested they could go to bed if they were tired, after such a long day. Kurt had immediately taken them up on the offer. He didn't feel like sticking around for coffee and dessert. He needed some time, to think, to mentally prepare himself for the next day, to process everything that had happened in just a few hours. He couldn't ruin this for Blaine. There was an envelope with money in his duffel bag that meant he owed it to him to get this right.

He had found it terribly difficult, sitting at the table and pretending he was used to normal family dinners. He spent his nights standing on a dark corner waiting for someone to fuck him. He wasn't used to making sparkling conversation about how well the wine complemented the lasagna, or how nice the garden looked. It wasn't his world. It had stopped being a possibility for him when his father's heart stopped beating.

Once upon a time, when he was young and naïve, Kurt had wanted to live like this. He had wanted the handsome boyfriend with the warm welcoming family, the linen napkins and the discussions about whether the new Russell Crowe movie was better than his last. But he couldn't picture himself there anymore. The only way to accept the way he lived was to permanently let go of those dreams. He refused to resurrect them and go through that misery again.

Kurt heard the water turn off in the shower and tensed even more. His fingers crumpled the edge of the sheet in a death grip and he could almost feel his heart pounding in his chest.

When Blaine opened the door and walked into the bedroom, Kurt closed his eyes and pretended to be asleep. He couldn't help hold his breath, as he waited anxiously. He heard Blaine moving quietly around the room, as if he didn't want to wake him. Kurt knew that, any moment now, the mattress would dip as Blaine slipped into bed with him, that he would feel callous hands on his body, his pajamas would be roughly pushed down and he would be flipped over and held down, helpless to stop him.

Blaine had told Kurt nothing sexual was expected of him and didn't seem like the kind of guy who would go back on his word, but Kurt knew better than to trust him. He couldn't trust anyone. How could he believe Blaine would be any different, when he had only ever been abused and hurt by everyone?

There was a rustle of fabrics, and when he didn't feel anything, Kurt dared to open his eyes a little. The bedroom was now in darkness and the only light came from the street lamp outside the window. He could see the outline of the couch and Blaine turning to get comfortable. He punched his pillow a couple of times, dropped his head onto it and then lay still.

Kurt realized he was getting faint from still holding his breath and let it out, shakily.

It took a long time for him to fall asleep, listening to Blaine's even breaths, to be sure he wasn't pretending to be asleep. It took hours to allow himself to believe he was safe here.

There was only one reason men ever wanted him around, and it was only a matter of time until Blaine realized he was paying him more than enough to get whatever he wanted from him. And he wouldn't ask – no one ever did – he would just take it, as if Kurt's body was his to use.

There wasn't anything else that could be possibly taken from him. They had already taken it all.

* * *

**I hope you enjoyed - let me know what you think of it :)**

**I'll see you again next weekend. Have a wonderful week!**

**L.-**


	4. Chapter 4

**Hi guys!**

**I hope you're having a wonderful weekend. Once again, thank you for all the lovely comments, reviews and messages. I appreciate every single one of them!**

**No warnings for this chapter! **

**Thank you to my lovely betas for their awesome work, Wutif and Christine :)**

**I own nothing!**

* * *

Sunlight falling on Blaine's face woke him up the next morning. He rolled to shy away from it and bury his face on the pillow, to find himself nearly falling to the floor, hanging half off the edge of the couch.

It took him a few seconds before his brain caught up and he remembered why he wasn't sleeping in his bed, and his eyes fell on the bump hidden under the blankets. He couldn't see Kurt's face since he was facing the other wall, but he could see he was curled into a ball from his shape under the cover.

His bladder was screaming at him so Blaine kicked the blankets off and padded to the bathroom. He brushed his teeth and tried to do something about his hair (going to bed with his curls damp from the shower had been a very foolish thing to do, because now it resembled a bird's nest). It was pretty much hopeless, so he had to thoroughly wet it down, and then he went back into the bedroom, where Kurt was still sleeping in the same position.

Blaine checked the alarm clock on his nightstand. It was almost nine, so his mother was mostly likely in the kitchen, making breakfast, while his father kept her company, reading the news on his computer. Blaine decided to wake Kurt so they could go down to the kitchen together, but as he approached the bed, he noticed how taut Kurt seemed, even in his sleep. He was holding the sheets over himself defensively, and his tense expression told Blaine he wasn't having a peaceful dream. Blaine didn't know what to do. Should he wake him, or not?

In the end, Blaine decided to let him sleep. He didn't feel like starting his day with Kurt biting his head off. Instead, he went downstairs to spend some time with his parents.

"Oh, honey, good morning!" Grace exclaimed with a smile when she saw him. She crossed the kitchen and planted a kiss on his cheek. "Did you sleep well?"

Blaine ignored his sore neck from sleeping on the couch. "Wonderfully, mom."

"Good morning, son," Henry said and gave him one of his characteristic pats in the back. "Where's Paul?"

"He's still sleeping," Blaine replied as he took a seat at the table. "He has trouble sleeping in new places, so I thought I'd let him sleep…" he lied quickly, with a pinch of guilt.

"That's fine. I'll keep something warm for him," Grace said understandingly, putting a fresh pot of coffee on the table with the fresh fruit, toast, bacon and scrambled eggs already waiting. Blaine began filling his plate, his appetite reawakening.

"Thanks, Mom," he smiled gratefully.

The three of them sat at the table, eating and talking for a few minutes, until Henry leaned across the table on his forearms and looked at Blaine directly, letting his son know he was concerned.

"So. About Paul…"

Blaine blinked stupidly for a second at the sudden change and then tried to look nonchalant. "Yes?"

"He looks like a great guy. Different from what we pictured, but still seems to be a good man," Henry said, thoughtfully. "He seemed terribly uncomfortable yesterday, though. Was he okay with coming here this week?"

"Yeah, yeah, of course," Blaine replied, trying to brush it off. "He was nervous. That's totally normal, right?"

"Of course it is. I hope he'll relax soon," Grace put her hand on Blaine's arm and squeezed gently. "As long as he makes you happy, we'll love him as much as we love you and your brother."

Blaine felt a flood of guilt and forced a smile on his face. "That's sweet of you to say, Mom. Thank you."

"Let him know there's nothing to worry about," Henry added. "Well… at least until Cooper arrives. He'll probably tease him, just for the hell of it. You know how he is… just warn Paul that he doesn't mean anything by it and he should be fine."

Blaine's fingers clenched around his cup of coffee. He hadn't thought about how Cooper would handle meeting Kurt. Blaine wasn't exactly sure how Kurt would react either, if his brother got on his case too much.

Why was his life always so messed up? Why did he always complicate it even more?

As soon as he reasonably could, Blaine escaped back to his bedroom, but he didn't feel any less trapped once he was there. Kurt hadn't budged, still frowning in his sleep. In any other circumstances, Blaine would've woken him to spare him the unpleasant dreams that were clearly haunting him, but right now Blaine was feeling a little selfish. If he woke Kurt, he would have to deal with him too, and the morning had already been stressful enough.

Blaine knew he it was entirely his own damn fault for being such a coward, and getting himself into this situation, but that didn't make it any easier to deal with it. He just wanted to avoid everyone until he could find a way through this. Until he could find the nerve he needed to lie to everyone he loved.

So he rummaged in his suitcase for a pair of yoga pants and an old OSU t-shirt, to go out for a run, and take his mind off of everything for a while.

The problem was, he couldn't just continue running forever.

* * *

Kurt startled awake from his dream, trying to evade a pair of hands holding him down. He sat up, alarmed, only to find he wasn't on his couch in his tiny apartment. He was in a big, foreign bed.

He immediately panicked – he never went to his customers' homes any more, completely at their mercy. There was no need when all he wanted was to get his job done and get the fuck out of there. So why would he be…?

_Oh_. Right. This was Blaine's parents' house. He was spending a week there.

Recalling that felt almost as bad as waking up in one of his customer's bed after being savagely fucked the previous night.

Kurt felt… uncomfortably insecure. Vulnerable. Unprotected. He was so out of his comfort zone that he was constantly on edge, and knowing he still had a whole week of this left sent a shiver down his spine.

He didn't understand Blaine at all. Kurt couldn't imagine any logical reason why Blaine would need to hire a prostitute to pose as his boyfriend. Blaine wasn't an unattractive man (even though Kurt had stopped looking at men with any sort of interest years ago. All he could see in them now was potential danger and hurt), so why would he have any trouble finding a decent guy to accompany him? What was wrong with Blaine that he had to pay? (Because there _had_ to be something wrong with him. Kurt had learned long ago that every guy who approached him had serious issues of some sort).

Kurt knew that accepting Blaine's offer had been a stupid move. He was at a stranger's home, completely at his mercy. On the streets, at least he could make sure he had an escape route. Here… here he didn't even want to think about what could happen. But he just couldn't pass up a chance like this – he was tired, he was starving and the money Blaine had offered him had seemed worth the risk.

Rubbing his eyes in frustration, Kurt tried to chase those thoughts away. _What's done is done_, he told himself firmly. _You're here now, so just get on with it, and see it through, until it's over. The same way you get through every day_.

He looked around the room. There was a pile of blankets, all carefully folded, with a pillow on top, lying on the couch where Blaine had slept. Kurt wondered how long Blaine had been up and why he hadn't woke him. Though he had to admit he was grateful for that. He wished he could sleep through the rest of this whole week instead of facing Blaine and his family.

There was no point in delaying the inevitable, Kurt took a deep fortifying breath and got out of bed. He grabbed his duffel bag and sorted through his clothes for something he hoped was appropriate to wear today, before taking a shower. He stood under the water spray for a little while, enjoying the perfect pressure on his back and neck, trying to let his tension run down the drain with the water. He definitely didn't miss the pathetic, claustrophobic shower in his own apartment where he had to rush if he didn't want to run out of hot water.

The Anderson house was so big that Kurt actually got a little lost trying to find his way to the kitchen, going the wrong way until he located the stairway again. A part of Kurt that had been buried for a very long time couldn't help but admire every inch of the exquisitely decorated house. He had once dreamed of a house just like this one, with a separate room allocated to display all his Tony Awards and, a few years later, his son's soccer trophies and his daughter's dance medals. But that dream had been dead for so long that Kurt barely even remembered it now. He would die in his crappy, sad apartment.

And gosh, considering the likely alternatives for people in his occupation, he really hoped he _would_ die in his crappy, sad apartment.

He finally found his way to the kitchen, and realized the house was completely quiet. Where was everyone else? But then he saw Grace sitting at the kitchen table with a cup of coffee and her computer. She removed her (obviously designer) glasses from her face as she stood and smiled at him.

"Good morning, Paul!" she said brightly. "Did you have a good night? Blaine told us you have trouble sleeping in new places sometimes, so he thought it was better to let you sleep…"

Kurt forced a smile in response to her warm welcome. "I appreciate that," he replied, proud of himself for sounding natural. He looked around the kitchen, half expecting Blaine to jump out from behind the island. "Where's Blaine?"

"He decided to go for a run," Grace gently guided Kurt to the table, while he tried not to tense under her touch. "We saved some breakfast for you, sweetheart. I'm keeping it warm in the oven. Just sit here and I'll bring it out for you."

Kurt blinked, a bit incredulous. "Oh. Ah. Thank you. That's very nice of you…"

If Kurt had thought the previous night awkward, it was only because he didn't know what breakfast was going to be like. He sat there with Blaine's mom, eating the best breakfast he'd had in years (he usually had a cup of coffee and a granola bar, if he took the time for breakfast at all) struggling to make polite conversation. Luckily, Grace seemed quite comfortable largely carrying it herself, as she watched him eat. He hummed vaguely, unsure of what to say.

He was scared he would screw up somehow. That she would ask him something that he was supposed to know and he wouldn't know how to answer. He was scared of what Blaine would do or say if he got back from running and discovered Kurt had ruined everything…

Grace's hand was suddenly covering his. He stared at it, wishing he could pull away. He couldn't deal with this, with loving gestures, comfort and soft touches. He had learned how to live without them, and he didn't want it now. Especially not from a woman he didn't know at all.

"Sweetie, you don't have to be so nervous around us," she murmured in a sweet voice. "I know meeting your boyfriend's parents can be nerve-wracking, but we already feel like we know you… and even if we didn't, just knowing how happy Blaine is with you is enough for us to love you too. We don't need more than that."

Kurt nodded slowly, not sure what he was expected to say. Grace seemed to interpret his silence as him still being overwhelmed.

"You know," she started again, her smile widening, "just the fact that Blaine brought you here shows us how he feels about you. You're the first guy he's ever brought home. Well…" she tilted her head, thinking. "There was this boy he was always with in high school. He would come for dinner sometimes or Blaine would spend the day at his house… but I don't think they were actually boyfriends. I think they were just really good friends who only had each other, when it came to liking boys and all of that…" Grace shook her head. "But that doesn't matter. This is the first time he's ever been comfortable enough in a relationship to let us meet the man he loves…"

"Really?" Kurt mumbled, mostly because that was the only thing he could come up with.

"Yes, really," Grace assured him. "I know there were other guys. I mean, I'm not stupid. I'm sure he's dated more than a few, but… you're the only one who's truly special to him."

Kurt desperately wished that the first time anyone ever said something like this to him, wasn't a lie. For a moment, he wished he really was Paul. He wished Kurt was the tragic role, and Paul, the man who had it all, was real.

"Just keep that in mind, Paul," she squeezed his hand softly. "And know that you have nothing to worry about from us."

There was a lump in Kurt's throat he couldn't seem to dislodge, so he simply nodded and whispered, "Okay."

He wondered if Grace would've said the same if she knew the truth.

She probably wouldn't. Everyone always thought Kurt was worthless as soon as they found out what he was.

Kurt didn't really blame them. He shared the same opinion.

* * *

Blaine closed the front door with his butt gently, as he wiped the sweat off his forehead with his forearm. He unclipped Nayla's leash and she immediately went into the kitchen, wagging her tail in search of the bowl of water that Grace always put down for her. He followed her, his body feeling the loose, relaxed warmth he enjoyed after a good run. He had definitely needed to unwind this morning.

He stopped as soon as he walked into the kitchen. Kurt was sitting at the table with his mother, looking terribly uncomfortable.

"Oh, hi," Blaine muttered, suddenly anxious again. Had they been talking about him? Had Kurt screwed up, and said something that led his mother to guess the truth?

"Hi, dear," Grace said brightly. "Paul and I were just talking about you."

Blaine hoped his eyes weren't showing the terror those words struck in him. He turned away and got a bottle of water from the fridge. "Were you really, now…?"

"Yes. But don't look so frightened! I wouldn't say anything embarrassing to your boyfriend," Grace rolled her eyes as she stood to put her empty cup in the sink. Then she leaned closer to Blaine to say in a stage whisper, loud enough for Kurt to hear. "I would really like if you kept this one."

Blaine laughed nervously and scratched the back of his neck, as Kurt stared at the table self-consciously. God, they were so incredibly awkward… How the hell had his mother _not_ guessed something was off?

"Well, I think I'm going to…" Blaine started saying, desperate to get away from there, as Kurt glared at him as if saying _don't you dare leave me here alone with your mother again_.

"Maybe you and Paul should take a nice walk," Grace proposed, still smiling at them. "Show him around a bit. I'm sure he'd love to see where you grew up."

That alternative sounded a whole lot better to Kurt than staying here and continuing to dread talking to Grace, so he stood to clear his breakfast dishes.

"Sure, I'd love to!" Kurt said with a smile that would've looked sincere if Blaine didn't know any better.

"Oh, leave that, sweetheart. I'll take care of it."

"No, no, it's okay. I can do it, Mrs. Anderson…" Kurt hurried to say, carrying everything to the sink and turning on the water to rinse the dishes.

"You don't have to be so formal. Please, just call me Grace, and let me…"

Blaine took advantage of their distraction and ran up the stairs to take a quick shower.

Spending time alone with Kurt was almost as unappealing as leaving him alone with his mother.

* * *

Blaine had his shoulders hunched defensively and his hands shoved in his pockets as they walked silently side by side. He had tried to actually give Kurt a tour, but he hadn't exactly been receptive.

"Uhm, so this is where I…"

"I don't actually _care_, Blaine. I just wanted to get away from your mother."

They had been walking aimlessly for over twenty minutes, long enough for Blaine to question this half-assed plan over and over again. He was this far from confessing what he had done to his parents.

He knew he had told Kurt that they didn't have to like or even talk to each other when they were alone, but this hostility was making everything harder. They might be stuck with each other, but Blaine always believed in making the best out of a bad situation. Unfortunately, Kurt didn't seem to share his viewpoint.

Kurt had his arms tightly crossed over his chest. He was wearing a beige sweater and a pair of well-worn jeans that left little to the imagination. His eyes were set ahead stubbornly, refusing to acknowledge Blaine's presence.

Blaine headed for his favorite coffee house. He needed more caffeine, if they were going to continue this ruse. They were almost there when Kurt ran his fingers through his hair and huffed in frustration.

"Okay, _fine_. Tell me more about Paul," Kurt said firmly, still not looking at him. "Talk to me about this boyfriend of yours. I need to know more details if we're going to keep doing this. We have to be a lot smarter than we have been so far."

"Ex-boyfriend," Blaine corrected him immediately, wincing internally because it still stung. "He broke up with me."

"What did you do?" Kurt asked.

Blaine frowned uncomfortably. "What makes you think _I_ was to blame?"

"Well, he was the one who broke up with _you_…" Kurt pointed out, thoughtfully.

"Look, that doesn't matter." The wound was still fresh and Blaine seriously didn't want to discuss it with him. "What matters is that they don't find out we broke up, until after this party, with everyone we know coming. That's why you're here."

"Well, then tell me all the stuff that I _should_ know," Kurt said impatiently. "I feel like everything you told me in the car was completely pointless."

"Pointless? I told you Paul works at an animal hospital and when they asked you about your job you started talking about pregnant women!" Blaine exclaimed. He wasn't the kind of guy who lost his temper easily, but Kurt seemed to push all his buttons just by walking next to him. "You just weren't listening!"

"Well, I'm listening now!" Kurt snapped, as they arrived at the coffee shop.

Blaine took a deep breath, deciding to ask Kurt if there was any point to filling him in. "Look, I… I won't blame you if you say no, but… do you really want to keep doing this? I mean, you can go home if you want. I'll make up an excuse for you, and say there was a family or a work emergency, or whatever. But I can't do this if you don't really give a damn."

Blaine was surprised to see a confusion of fleeting feelings crossing Kurt's face in response to his question. He had no idea what they meant, but it was the most honest emotion he had seen from Kurt until now. For the first time, it made him wish he could understand the man standing before him.

"Yes, I want to keep doing this," Kurt finally answered, once again his voice flat and his face unexpressive.

Blaine nodded slowly. He pushed the coffee shop door open and held it for Kurt to enter. "Then I'll tell you everything."

* * *

There were two cups of coffee sitting between them, on the table next to a window. Kurt was people-watching while Blaine picked a napkin to shreds as he told Kurt everything he could think of about Paul – his hobbies, his quirks, his family history, anecdotes about his job. Kurt didn't seem very interested, but at least it looked like he was paying attention.

It was painful describing the things they had done together to Kurt and made him wonder again why Paul had found their relationship inadequate. Blaine had been the happiest he had ever with Paul, but it hadn't been enough for him. He still didn't understand what he had done wrong.

Kurt finished the last sip of his coffee and leaned his elbows on the table, his gaze falling on Blaine for the first time since they had sat there. "Your mom mentioned this is the first time you've brought a boyfriend home to meet them."

"Yeah," Blaine nodded, then rolled his eyes and snorted. "Isn't that ironic? That the first time I actually bring a guy home to meet my parents, he's…"

"A prostitute?" Kurt completed for him, arching an expressive eyebrow.

"I was actually going to say _a complete stranger_," Blaine said, with a corner of his mouth curled up bitterly. "I really thought Paul was the one…"

"All that romantic bullshit only happens in fiction," Kurt muttered repressively, playing with the lid of his cup. "Everyone gets dumped, cheated on or divorced these days. No one believes in love anymore."

Blaine tilted his head in surprise. That was the deepest thing he had heard Kurt say since they'd met, and the most discouraging. "Do you really think so?" Kurt simply shrugged carelessly. "I don't agree. I'm sad and heartbroken now, but one day I'll find someone perfect for me. I believe there's a perfect match for everyone out there…"

"Didn't you think that about this Paul guy?" Kurt asked him mockingly. Blaine nodded reluctantly, conceding he had been wrong this time. "Well, then how can you still believe in that crap?"

"I don't think love is _crap_, Kurt," Blaine replied, having no idea why they were actually discussing this. "It's complicated, sure. But it's still beautiful."

"It doesn't look beautiful to me, when the guy you're in love with dumps you a week before he's supposed to meet your parents and you have to hire a whore to replace him."

Blaine winced. He didn't want to let Kurt bring him down, but his harsh words were impossible not to listen to.

Kurt sighed and looked out the window again. "Whatever. Just keep talking about him. What's his favorite color?"

Blaine mentioned anything about Paul that came to mind, but he was distracted. Kurt's views on love made his stomach churn uncomfortably. The fact that Kurt had voiced Blaine's biggest fears in such a casual way threatened to leave him breathless.

Was Kurt bitter and jaded or was Blaine too naïve and old-fashioned? Blaine wanted to believe he would one day find the man who would sweep him off his feet and make him live his very own real-life fairy tale, but maybe it was time to abandon those fantasies and realize that either there was something very wrong with the men who refused to compromise, or there was something very wrong with him.

Blaine tried telling himself there wasn't anything wrong with him, that it just had been bad luck.

But then, if there wasn't anything that might stand in the way of someone loving him… why was he sitting across the table from a guy he had to pay to be with him, instead of the man he imagined spending his life with?

Blaine took a sip of cold coffee and tried to ignore the answers his brain was screaming back at him.

* * *

**Thank you so much for reading! I hope you liked it :)**

**Mwah. See you next week, my darlings!**


	5. Chapter 5

**Hi guys! I hope you're all having a lovely weekend.**

**I was very close to not updating this weekend – it's been a hell of a week with way too much work piling up non-stop and I was too tired to even try to edit this chapter, but I finally found some strength to get it done. Thanks to my beautiful betas for their help. This would be a mess if I had ot rely on my exhausted little brain alone. But anyway, I want you guys to know that it is a possibility, that I may not update on some weekends, because I'm honestly busy and it's difficult to find the time to work on this, even with the story completed and two betas. So please bear with me, and I'll bring you new chapters as regularly as I can. For now, Saturdays are the official updating days, but they may change soon. We'll see. **

**I'm rambling too much! No warnings for this chapter, and I, of course, own nothing.**

* * *

Kurt was caught once again between a nightmare and consciousness the next morning, when a muffled sound and a mumble woke him. He pushed away the last vestiges of his bad dream – to push _his_ hands away, to push _him_ away – and found himself slightly less disoriented than the previous morning, because he immediately recognized the room. His eyes fell on Blaine, retrieving some keys from the carpeted floor where he had obviously dropped them accidentally.

Sitting up, face scrunched up against the bright glow coming from the window, he glanced at Blaine in dismay. "Where the hell are you going so early? You're _not _leaving me to have breakfast alone with your mother again."

Blaine startled, not having noticed that Kurt was awake. He was fully dressed in nice thigh-hugging jeans and a maroon cardigan that looked great with his skin tone. Kurt approved, even half asleep as he was. "Oh hey. Good morning. I wasn't sure if you'd like to come with me and you looked so tired, even in your sleep, so I thought…" He cut off his babbling at Kurt's continuing glare. "I have to meet my brother at the airport."

"I'm coming with you," Kurt muttered, kicking the blankets off.

Blaine looked annoyed, even though he tried to hide it. "You don't have to come with me…"

"I repeat, you're _not_ leaving me alone with your mother again," Kurt dropped his bag onto the bed to look for some clothes to wear.

"I can drop you off at a coffee shop or something," Blaine sounded a little desperate. Kurt looked up at him with an arched eyebrow, wondering what his problem was. "I'm sort of really looking forward to seeing my brother. It's been a while."

"Well, you can see him with me by your side," Kurt replied stubbornly. "You brought me here for a reason, Blaine. I'm not here to entertain your mother while you go out with your brother. I'm here as your goddamn _boyfriend_."

Blaine crossed his arms over his chest and looked at Kurt in silence for a little while. "Well, someone's extremely bitchy this morning."

Kurt grabbed his clothes with a vice grip. "Do not test me, Anderson."

Without another word, Kurt marched into the bathroom to get ready and Blaine let himself fall onto the couch, resigned to wait for Kurt.

* * *

When they arrived at the airport, Blaine was relieved that Cooper's flight was delayed, because Kurt had taken forever to get dressed. However, he couldn't help but groan in frustration, since this also meant that he was stuck killing time with Kurt.

And there was nothing worse than trying to kill time with someone who refused to speak to you.

Kurt completely ignored him, looking at shop windows and at the constant flow of people coming and going, while Blaine trailed behind him helplessly, until he suggested grabbing some late breakfast at one of the cafés. Kurt shrugged his agreement and that's how they found themselves sitting at a table so tiny that their legs bumped under it.

Blaine picked listlessly at his bagel. He was divided between excitement about seeing his brother soon and the uncomfortable awkwardness of being around Kurt. He supposed he would never understand the other man, never learn how to approach him without setting him off. Just a few more days and Kurt and he would part ways, and Blaine would try for the rest of his life to forget that he had been pathetic enough to ever do this.

Kurt sipped his coffee with his usual detached air, as if nothing happening around him was worthy of his interest. Blaine hated when Kurt did that - it made him feel terribly insignificant. He couldn't grasp why Kurt acted like that, but it was one more thing about him to add to the list of what he would never, ever understand.

"Is there anything I should know about your brother?" Kurt asked once his coffee was gone, apparently bored enough to speak to him again. "You know, besides the whole acting thing."

Blaine took a bite of his bagel, thoughtfully. "No, I don't think so. I'm sure he'll tell you everything you need to know himself. Cooper _loves_ talking about himself," he said, a trace of fondness in his voice, with perhaps just a tad of underlying irritation.

Kurt nodded. "What about a date? Is he bringing one? Is he married? Please tell me he doesn't have kids, because adding kids to this disaster would just add another level to my personal hell."

Blaine rolled his eyes. He couldn't understand people who didn't like kids. Children represented all the good in the world. There was nothing more comforting and beautiful than seeing a smile in a kid's face. "Nope. No wife or kids. And I don't know about the date. Cooper is never serious when it comes to relationships. He likes his freedom and he likes to keep his options open. Or so he says," Blaine added with a little shrug.

That was just one of the many things that made the Anderson brothers so different from each other. Cooper claimed to be a free spirit who couldn't be tamed, who would never settle with just one woman when there were so many others still out there. Blaine was sure his brother would be an amazing father - if he wasn't so terrified of compromise and commitment.

"Good," Kurt relaxed and sat back in his chair. Then he frowned, studying Blaine with curiosity. "So... if it's okay for your brother to show up without a date, why isn't it okay for you?"

Blaine stopped pretending to eat his bagel. He pushed it away, and tried to explain. "My parents have accepted that Cooper isn't going to get married any time soon, or ever even have a real relationship. That's how he insists he wants it. But that's not me. I like being in a relationship and I love the idea of being married to one man for the rest of my life. Even if none of my ex-boyfriends seemed to be interested enough to stick around and give it a shot." He hadn't meant to sound so bitter, but he couldn't help it. It stung, being alone again, being rejected and unloved. "They've asked to meet my boyfriend a million times, but… Paul never had time because of school and his job, so we never managed to come here and do the whole meet-the-parents thing. This anniversary party was the perfect opportunity to introduce him, but he must have already known he was leaving, when he said he'd go. They were so excited that I was bringing Paul, so I couldn't show up without him, without explaining that he dumped me. I just can't face what would happen at that party if they knew, constantly pitying me and comforting me, when all I want to do is to get over him so it stops hurting..."

Kurt was watching him intently, so with Blaine's last words still hanging in the air, he leaned over the table. "Are you fucking kidding me right now?" He asked him incredulously.

Blaine's eyes widened in surprise.

"You make all of this sound so goddamn tragic, as if not being able to bring your boyfriend home to meet your parents is the worst thing that could ever happen to you. Why don't you grow the fuck up?"

"I..." Blaine mumbled, shocked. He definitely hadn't been expecting _that_. But before he could react, Kurt pushed his chair back and stood up, looking like this was more than he could handle. "Where are you going?"

"Bathroom," Kurt answered in a sharp tone and was out of the café in three long strides.

Blaine sat there dumbfounded, not exactly sure what had just happened.

* * *

When Kurt returned, they both had apparently decided not to say another word about the subject. Cooper's flight had landed while Kurt was in the bathroom, so they stood next to each other at the gate waiting for him to emerge, silent and tense. Blaine wondered if he should avoid going to coffee places with Kurt, because it seemed like they always ended up clashing and arguing.

Cooper saw Blaine before Blaine saw him. He stood in the middle of the sea of people, smiled his award-winning smile (Cooper's words, not Blaine's) and opened his arms. "Little brother!"

Blaine snorted at Cooper's constant need to make a spectacle out of everything, always looking for attention, as he pushed through the crowd to get to him. Cooper hugged him tightly as soon as they were within reach, Blaine's nose buried in his brother's shoulder. He crossed his fingers, hoping he would resist making height jokes.

"Hi B," Cooper muttered as he squeezed him.

"Hi, Coop. It's nice to see you."

"Same, little brother, same." Cooper pulled away enough to take a good look at him. "How are you? You look a little stressed."

Blaine was amazed by his brother's ability to sense when something was wrong and hoped he could hide the guilt eating at him. "I'm good, don't worry. I had a rough week at work, but the break's going to help."

"Don't let the little bastards make you old before your time, Blaine," Cooper said, clapping a hand on his shoulder. He looked around the airport. "Well. I was hoping for a better welcome, to be honest. No paparazzi? No screaming fans? What the hell is this?"

"The show hasn't even aired yet, Coop. Maybe next time you come to Ohio there will be paps," Blaine laughed at his brother's crestfallen look. But Cooper's face lit up just a few seconds after that.

"Oh! You must be the boyfriend! Hi!"

Blaine had completely forgotten about Kurt, focusing on how good it was to see his brother. He felt his stomach sinking as he turned to make the proper introductions, but Cooper didn't give him the time.

"Paul, right?" Cooper said, his most charming smile in place. "I've heard so much about you. I'm sure you could say the same thing about me."

"Uhm," Kurt's eyes shifted between the brothers and he seemed a little unsure. Blaine understood - Cooper was a lot to take in the first time you met him. But he gave Kurt a meaningful look anyway. "Yes. Of course. Blaine talks so much about you. Nice to meet you, Cooper."

Blaine decided to intervene before anything else went wrong. "So, Coop. You must be tired from the flight. If you have all of your stuff, can we go now? I think Mom was making something special for lunch to welcome you."

"Yeah, yeah, let's go. But you can walk ahead of me and pretend to take pictures on your phone if you want. You know, it makes me look good…" Cooper grinned, sort of, kind of, not really kidding.

Blaine ignored him, rolling his eyes, but gosh, he had really missed his brother, gigantic ego and all.

* * *

The first few minutes of the car ride back to the Andersons' house was filled with Cooper telling them about his job. Blaine knew their parents would ask him about it, too, but Cooper would gladly tell the story a million times over, so he allowed his brother to fill what otherwise could become a very awkward silence. And Blaine was tired of awkward silences.

Eventually Cooper turned to Kurt, who was riding in the backseat, apparently glad to be off the radar for a while. Blaine could see him from the rearview mirror, bracing himself for whatever Cooper was about to say.

"So, Paul."

"Cooper." Kurt said, arching a perfectly shaped eyebrow.

"I've heard a lot of extremely admirable things about you from Blaine, but he tends to be a biased idiot when he's in love, so… tell me something about yourself."

Blaine glanced in his mirror at Kurt again, and could see panic rising in his eyes. "Cooper…" He mumbled quietly. "Don't be a dickhead."

"I'm not being a dickhead. I'm entitled to inquire about the man who has the power to build or destroy my little brother's happiness," Cooper replied, his face completely serious.

"First of all, I'm twenty seven, so stop talking like I'm five. And second, you're being a drama queen again," Blaine shared a quick, meaningful look with his brother, who rolled his eyes.

"Fine, fine. But there's nothing wrong with making sure he's the right man for you," Cooper stage-whispered, as if Kurt wasn't there at all. "I don't want to see you heartbroken again."

Blaine was unable to stop his face falling a little.

"Well, you can run a background check if that makes you feel better," Kurt commented lightly from the backseat, quickly coming to his rescue. Blaine wished he could turn and thank him, but Cooper was right there. "Or you can trust that your brother is an adult who can make the right choices for himself."

Cooper's eyes narrowed a little. "So does that mean you have nothing good to say in your favor? You're not even going to try selling me with the whole _I love your brother so much I'd die for him_ speech?"

Blaine knew Cooper's intentions were good, but he was certainly pushing all of Kurt's buttons, and he had no interest in seeing him explode. "Cooper, cut it out. I mean it."

Cooper grumbled and crossed his arms over his chest, staring out of the window.

Blaine suddenly wanted to put him back onto a plane and send him back to Los Angeles.

* * *

It was a very, very long day. Cooper asked Kurt prying questions at every opportunity. It seemed he wanted to know everything about Blaine's boyfriend –his job, his relationship with Blaine, his aspirations for the future. He tried to disguise the questions with a soft voice and an innocent smile, but he wasn't fooling them. He was clearly interrogating Kurt – Paul – and it was only a matter of time until something went off the rails and Blaine didn't want to stand there and watch the trainwreck as it happened.

No matter what he said, though, Cooper was unstoppable.

Kurt managed to reply to most of his questions with grace, but Blaine could tell he was getting extremely annoyed. His knuckles actually turned white as he gripped the fork and knife during dinner that evening and the smile on his face was so forced that even their parents were starting to realize something was going on.

Blaine distracted Cooper by asking about filming his new show, his character, anything that would put Cooper off track. It worked, for the most part, and at least it gave Kurt enough time to calm down, and not throw his knife at Cooper's face.

Once dinner was over, Kurt quickly offered to help Grace with the dishes, desperate to avoid Cooper. Blaine watched him go into the kitchen with his mother and felt bad for him. Kurt had nothing to lose here – if things went downhill, Blaine was the one who would look like an idiot in front of his family, and Kurt would walk away with the money he'd been promised – but he still felt bad about putting him through this. Everyone had a limit. He sure as hell didn't want to find out what happened when Kurt reached his.

He glared at Cooper pointedly, not wanting to say anything in front of their father, but making a mental note to give him a piece of his mind later, when their parents weren't around.

* * *

"Hey Paul."

Kurt closed his eyes without turning around, rinsing one of the last dishes. Cooper must have seen Grace leave the room to answer her cell phone. He should've known Blaine's asshole brother would use it as one more chance to make this night even worse.

Cooper appeared next to him, rolling up the sleeves of his shirt and picking a kitchen towel to dry. Kurt kept his mouth shut, feeling his jaw so tense it hurt, and didn't even acknowledge the other man's presence.

It only lasted for a few more seconds until Cooper sighed and leaned his hip against the sink, facing Kurt.

"Listen, I know I've been nothing but a dick to you today…"

"Oh, so now you're admitting it…" Kurt mumbled, unable to stop himself.

Cooper rolled his stunningly blue eyes. "Yes. I knew what I was doing all along, and I'd say I'm sorry, but I'm actually not."

Kurt arched his eyebrow and passed him another dish. "I'm not sure I understand the point of this conversation, then."

Cooper put the dish and the cloth down and ran his fingers through his (also stunning) wavy dark hair. "It doesn't have anything to do with you, I promise. You seem like a good guy. I _know_ you are, because Blaine has told me so a million times and my parents obviously adore you." He waved a hand in the vague direction of the dining room. "But you have to understand… at the end of the day, the only thing I really care about is Blaine's happiness."

"I don't think that's up to you to decide…" Kurt said, turning the water off once he was done, and also leaning against the sink to look at Cooper.

"No. But if I can stop him from getting his heart broken, then I will," Cooper shrugged. "He's my little brother. I love him and I hate seeing him upset because of assholes who don't appreciate what a great guy he is."

"You can't choose for him who he falls in love with," Kurt crossed his arms over his chest, feeling defensive, and desperately wished someone would walk in and save him from this conversation.

"I know I can't," Cooper seemed genuinely sad. "But I can't help worrying about him. I can't help feeling like I have a responsibility to _do_ something to keep him from getting hurt." Cooper glanced at the doorway, as if making sure no one could eavesdrop. "You know how he is. You _know _how hard he falls, how big his heart is. I'm tired of jerks walking all over that heart. I'm tired of seeing his hopes and dreams crushed. He's not like me; he doesn't do well on his own and he definitely doesn't appreciate the perks of being an attractive, single man. He wants someone to love him, and he wants to love them back. He dreams of a family of his own." At this point, Cooper's eyes seemed to glaze, seeing something that wasn't there. "When he was a little boy, he would run into my room with a crayon drawing he'd made. It was always the same picture, different variations of the same theme. It was him, his husband and their children. Sometimes they were on a beach, sometimes they were at a fair, sometimes at their own place. He always looked so excited talking about it. He knew what he wanted when he was five years old. And he still wants those things." Cooper took a deep breath and his eyes returned to Kurt. "So I don't know if this means the same for both of you. I don't know how you really feel about Blaine. I look at you and I want to believe you love him, but I just don't see it, and that scares the shit out of me, because it means Blaine's heart could get broken again."

Kurt was silent. He had no idea what to say. On one hand, he couldn't stop thinking that Paul – the real Paul – had already broken Blaine's heart, had already walked away, and Cooper's words of warning were too late now, even though he didn't know it. And on the other hand… it sent a pang of nostalgia all over him, listening to Cooper talk about his brother like this. It reminded him of that sensation, that feeling of _family_ that he had lost so long ago and that he had almost forgotten completely by now.

"I won't break his heart," he finally said to Cooper, and it really did sound like a promise. A promise Kurt knew he would be able to keep, because to break someone's heart you have to mean something to them.

And Kurt hadn't meant anything to anyone in a very long time.

* * *

The next morning, Cooper woke up feeling like he was ready to stop being a douche to Paul. He had already been honest with him, told him not to mess with Blaine, but now there was no reason to keep things tense and awkward any more. Blaine would never forgive him if he ruined this week for all of them.

As he stretched his arms over his head, Cooper admitted to himself that he still didn't trust Paul a hundred percent, but he was willing to give him a chance for Blaine's sake. There was something about him that made him doubt this guy. Paul was right, though. He couldn't make that decision for Blaine. His brother was a grown up and he could freely choose who to be with.

Cooper figured the best thing for him to do was spend time with Blaine and his boyfriend, to see them interact together. He wanted to see with his own eyes that happiness Blaine had talked about in all of his phone calls since he met Paul. He needed to see it so he could believe it and feel reassured. And he really needed to get to know his brother's man, because everything Blaine had said during those phone calls had led Cooper to believe he would soon be his best man.

Cooper really wanted to be Blaine's best man. It was the most important person at a wedding, the one who got all the attention. Well, after the grooms, of course.

Since there was no better time than the present, Cooper slipped quietly out his bedroom, still wearing his snug blue boxers and white t-shirt. He padded down the hall towards his brother's room and grinned mischievously as he stopped at his door. He wondered if he would find them having a morning quickie or maybe even sleeping naked after getting dirty the previous night. Either way, this was an ideal chance to embarrass Blaine. And what were big brothers for, if not to embarrass their little brothers?

So Cooper carefully turned the doorknob, delighted to find it was unlocked, pushed the door open and yelled, "Good morning, lovebirds!"

But then he stopped, and his grin was replaced by a frown as he took in Blaine and Paul, who had woken up abruptly with his entrance, but they weren't naked or tangled in each other's arms or doing anything remotely normal for a young couple in love.

They were actually sleeping across the room from each other, completely separate.

Paul was sitting up in bed with his hair disheveled, exasperation and annoyance darkening his face. Blaine, previously sleeping on the couch, had rolled to the floor with Cooper's yell. Now he was scrambling back to his feet, wide-eyed with fright.

"Cooper! What the hell are you doing?" He exclaimed, pissed off.

Cooper ignored his brother's question, his brow crinkled in bewilderment. "What exactly is going on here?"

"Nothing's going on! Get out of my room!" Blaine yelled.

"Why aren't you two sleeping together?" Cooper scowled at Paul. Had he forgotten their conversation already? What the hell had he done to his little brother? "Did you two have a fight?"

"No, we're not fighting," Blaine said tiredly, rubbing a hand down his face. "Cooper, please, can you just…"

"No. I want to know what's wrong," Cooper said with his arms crossed stubbornly, trying to look menacing as he stood in the doorway in his underwear.

Paul groaned in frustration. "I have nightmares, okay?" He snapped, sounding incredibly upset. "And when I do, I tend to kick and hit, so Blaine had to move to the couch last night to avoid getting kneed on the groin."

Blaine turned to look at Paul. Cooper let his arms fall to his sides, once again feeling like a dick.

"Really? That sucks, man," He muttered in an apologetic tone, then stared at Paul curiously. "What kind of nightmares?"

"That's none of your damn business," Paul answered, teeth clenched and eyes flaming dangerously.

Cooper put his hands up defensively. "Just asking. I didn't mean to startle you, guys." (Which was a complete lie. That was exactly his plan). He looked between the two men. Blaine was still looking at Paul, and Paul was avoiding both of their eyes. He seemed a little embarrassed, maybe. Cooper was curious about these nightmares, wondering if there was some kind of story there, but realized it would be rude to insist. "I'll go downstairs and start on breakfast, okay? You guys can join me whenever you want."

Blaine simply nodded and Paul stayed quiet. Cooper closed the door softly behind him, determined to find out exactly what was going on with those two.

* * *

As soon as the door was closed behind Cooper, Blaine buried his fingers in his messy curls, shaking his head from side to side, desperately. "Fuck, fuck, _shit_," he muttered.

Kurt fell back against the pillows. "That's a really nice vocabulary for a kindergarten teacher."

"Shut _up_," Blaine turned to him, instantly irritated with him again. "Don't you realize how close he was to…?"

"To nothing," Kurt interrupted impatiently, waving a hand in dismissal. "He bought it."

"You don't know Cooper like I do," Blaine scoffed. He dropped on the edge of the bed and looked at Kurt. "He's stubborn. If he thinks something's off, he won't leave us alone until he finds out what it is."

"Your annoying brother is your problem, not mine," Kurt said, stretching. "I had to deal with him yesterday. Now it's your turn."

Blaine sighed, feeling trapped. What was he going to do to calm his idiot brother's suspicions? Then he looked at Kurt, who had his arms over his head and his back to stretch the muscles on his long lean body.

"Thank you," he whispered. Kurt tilted his head to the side to look at him, questioningly. "For saying that, about the nightmares. I panicked and had no idea what to say."

"It was the first thing that came to my mind," Kurt admitted with a slight shrug. "I'm glad it worked."

Blaine continued to watch him, considering what he had said. He knew Kurt actually did have nightmares. He had seen him, thrashing around in bed, making faintly distressed noises. He wanted to ask about it, but knew he would meet nothing but hostility if he did intrude into his personal issues.

And then he got distracted with a slow realization.

"We're gonna have to act more in love," Blaine said in a revelation, making Kurt's head snap up to face him.

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" Kurt asked warily.

"They have to see that we're in love when they look at us or Cooper is going to be convinced we're fighting, no matter what we say," Blaine felt frustrated. Why was everything so difficult? Why did he keep messing up his own life? "We should probably sit close together, look at each other more fondly, talk in whispers? Hold hands?"

Kurt rolled his eyes, looking a bit revolted and uncomfortable. "This just keeps getting worse and worse."

"What other choice do we have?" Blaine asked him, lips curled in a sad smile.

"Well, you could try being honest. If you weren't such a coward, that is," Kurt said icily, without an ounce of compassion. "But since I don't see that happening, then I guess I'll have to pretend I actually like you …"

They sat there in silence for a few more minutes, both delaying the moment they had to face Blaine's family again and start showing more affection.

Neither of them was exactly looking forward to it.

* * *

While they had breakfast with Cooper and their mother – Henry had already left for work – Kurt and Blaine sat close together, thighs almost glued to each other under the table. Blaine spread jam on a piece of toast and handed it to Kurt, and Kurt refilled Blaine's coffee cup. To others' eyes, it might have looked like an effortless routine – a morning dance they did together every day, one more thing they shared in their life as a couple. But the two of them knew better.

Blaine was not only lying to his family – the most important people he had in his life – but he was also pushing the boundaries of this man he was paying to be here. He could see the discomfort in Kurt's eyes as their hands brushed or when Blaine leaned close enough to nudge their shoulders. He hid it well, but Blaine could tell nonetheless. He felt disgusted with himself, knowing he was using Kurt, making him do things he didn't want to do because he needed the money.

He disguised his self-disgust with what he hoped looked like a lovesick smile at his fake boyfriend.

* * *

After breakfast, Grace said she was going to take a shower and then go out to run some errands. Cooper had brought audition videos with him, and was bugging Blaine to watch them with him. Kurt found himself being tugged into the living room by the hand.

"I can't believe you've never seen any of my commercials, Paul," Cooper said, pouting. "They're on national television. They show them on every commercial break during the Super Bowl!"

Kurt shrugged. "I don't watch that much television. I don't really have the time."

"Still. I'm shocked that Blaine never showed you one," Cooper glared at his brother. "You're supposed to be my number one fan, Blaine."

"You're lucky I even like you half of the time," Blaine chuckled, as he sat down on the couch and pulled Kurt down beside him.

Kurt suddenly found Blaine pressed against his side. Within two more of Cooper auditions, Blaine was actually cuddling him, head on his shoulder and arm wrapped around his waist, grateful Blaine ignored his unwilling tension. Cooper kept turning to look at them with a twitchy smile, so Kurt struggled to look relaxed and contented in Blaine's arms, even though he felt a little nauseous.

When was the last time someone had held him like that? No one ever bothered caressing his arm or his cheek, or looking for warmth in his embrace. Kurt closed his eyes for a second, remembering the very last gesture of affection he had received: the morning his father died. Burt had squeezed Kurt's shoulder, and said goodbye, as they parted ways to go to work and school respectively. If Kurt had known that would be the last time he'd seen him alive, he would've clung to him and never let go of his father with every last bit of strength he'd had in his body.

Kurt opened his eyes again, eyes falling unseeing on the television screen where Cooper was delivering a line in a commercial as if it was a Shakespearean monologue. He swallowed, hoping no one had noticed his moment of weakness.

Still, he found himself feeling more vulnerable than he had felt in years, so he allowed himself to burrow a little more into Blaine's arms, reveling in how nice it was to simply be held without any ulterior motives.

He could tell Blaine was taken off guard, but he merely tightened his arms around Kurt a little bit more. Kurt broke every rule in his book when he allowed himself to briefly fantasize, how amazing it would be if someone considered him worth holding. He imagined a pair of loving arms wrapping around him, keeping him safe and warm, and never letting go.

He imagined it wasn't all fake. He imagined it was real.

Just for a little bit.

* * *

**What do you think of Cooper? It's my very first time writing him, so I hope I did him justice. **

**Thank you for reading and reviewing! I appreciate it so much x**

**See you next week (hopefully).**

**L.-**


	6. Chapter 6

**Hi guys.**

**I hope you had a nice week. Mine was nothing short of hell, but getting this chapter ready to share it with you sort of distracted me and helped me get through it, so I hope you'll enjoy it. Thank you so much for all the lovely reviews - they mean SO much.**

**All my love goes to my beautiful betas, Wutif and Christine, for being so wonderful. **

**I own nothing.**

* * *

Kurt was still immersed in his comforting fantasy of being cherished by someone when Grace came back downstairs, looking elegant and timeless in an exquisite slim black skirt, a navy shirt and a beautiful pair of pumps. Kurt couldn't help noticing what a gorgeous woman she really was.

"Well, boys," she said, retrieving her handbag from a side table. It was a classic Chanel handbag that probably cost about the same as a month of Kurt's rent. She paused next to the couch and looked at the three of them fondly, smiling brighter when she saw Blaine and his boyfriend cuddling. "I'm going out for a bit, but I should be back long before dinner time. If you get hungry, there's plenty of food in the kitchen for lunch." Grace eyed them for a few more seconds and then tilted her head thoughtfully, as if an idea had just come to her. "Actually… Paul? Would you like to come with me, sweetheart?"

Kurt's eyes went wide. "I… you want me to go with you?"

Grace shrugged, still smiling. "It could be a great opportunity for us to get to know each other better. I'm sure Blaine wouldn't mind if I borrowed you for a while, right honey? We can let the brothers catch up and maybe we can actually get a chance to talk…"

Blaine sat up anxiously, one arm unconsciously gripping Kurt's back. "Uhm. I don't know… is that a good idea?"

Grace laughed. "Oh, Blaine. You make it sound like I'm going to kidnap him or something! Can't a mother try to bond with her son's boyfriend? Paul is part of our family now."

Kurt could see Blaine's reluctance to let him out of his sight, and he wasn't exactly thrilled with the idea of spending time alone with Grace either, but it would be very rude if he declined. "I'd love to, if I'm not too much of a bother, of course."

"Not at all, sweetie!" She assured him happily.

So that's how Kurt ended up riding in the passenger seat of Grace's car. Blaine watched them leave nervously, wondering what else could go wrong. Kurt eyed him helplessly, wishing he had been able to come up with a reasonable excuse for why he couldn't accompany her.

He must have looked apprehensive, because a few blocks away from the Andersons' house, Grace put a hand on his knee and squeezed gently.

"Relax. I really just want to spend some time with you," she said with an easy smile. "You have nothing to worry about."

Her reassurance didn't help him at all because Grace wanted to spend time with Paul, not with Kurt. Kurt had nothing to contribute. In his experience, the only reason people (men, always men) sought out his company was to satisfy their lust, so he had no idea of what Grace wanted from him.

"Thank you," he muttered, looking sheepish. "It's just… I've never done this before. I can't help but be a little nervous."

"I get it. I was really nervous when I met Henry's parents, too," Grace rolled her eyes. "That was a long time ago, of course. It was such a serious, formal affair back then, meeting your significant other's family."

A smile twitched Kurt's lips. "What happened?"

"Well, he invited me over for dinner. I remember wearing a pink dress that my mother made especially for that night and he wore his best suit. After he introduced me, we immediately sat at the table. You could hear everyone breathing and chewing in the dead silence," Grace laughed and shook her head. "Of course I was completely terrified, but his mother was so kind. She did her best to make me feel comfortable, though it took a while before I finally realized they were just as nervous at meeting me."

Kurt couldn't help but thank his luck that Blaine's family was so welcoming. If he'd had to go through that much awkwardness he would've given up already, Blaine's money be damned.

Grace told him a few more stories about when she and Blaine's father were still dating. He had to admit that she distracted him so well, that he forgot to be nervous. He simply listened and gradually felt his anxiety fade.

Blaine was so incredibly lucky to have a mother like Grace Anderson.

* * *

Deep down inside, Kurt was sort of, kind of, maybe… beginning to have fun. Grace kept the conversation light, with no awkward, personal questions about Paul's life to answer. Kurt didn't feel trapped. He was okay. He was… yeah, he was actually enjoying himself.

They went to the post office, to the party's caterer to run over some details about the food and then to a flower shop, where she asked him to help her choose flowers for the table center pieces. After she ordered several dozens of tulips that matched the decorations perfectly, they found a quiet little café and had lunch.

They were getting into the car again when she got a phone call from one of the girls at her boutique. Grace talked for a few minutes and then hung up.

"Would you mind if we stopped by my boutique for a little while?" She asked him, smiling. She was always smiling.

"Sure, no problem. Is everything okay?" He tilted his head, looking at her curiously, as she started the engine.

"I hope so! The girls said they needed my help, so we'll see…"

Grace's boutique was located on one of the busiest streets in Westerville. It looked small from the outside, but once Kurt followed her inside, he realized that was deceiving. The main room, with its beautiful dark wooden floors and high ceiling with a stunning crystal chandelier hanging over their heads, was where the clothes were displayed. Two long racks lined the walls and then there was a big oak table in the middle of the room, displaying artfully mixed and matched tops. The counter with the register (probably an antique of some sort) was near the back. Next to it, Kurt saw sewing machines through a door that led to a workshop where the clothes were made.

Grace had explained to him on the way there that she wasn't really a designer – it wasn't as if she had a degree or anything. But she had loved clothes since she was a little girl and it had become a hobby of hers to design and create clothes. After her sons had grown up and didn't need her anymore, she found herself looking for a new purpose in life, something that would fill her long days and give her a sense of accomplishment at the same time. She had opened the boutique and lovingly grew it into a successful business.

Kurt was introduced to all of Grace's employees. There were four girls. One was busy with a customer, another was standing behind the counter and the other two, the ones who looked more stressed, were in the backroom.

"What's wrong?" Grace asked, going with them into the backroom. Kurt wasn't sure if he was supposed to wait for her or follow, but he decided to go along rather than standing awkwardly in the middle of the boutique.

"We have two problems," one of the girls, Victoria, said as she chewed on her bottom lip nervously. "The first is with the dress Mr. Orwell ordered for his daughter's Sweet Sixteen. It's completely finished, but we didn't realize the zipper sticks until now and he's supposed to pick it up in an hour. We can't replace it because it was the last one we had left. I'm so stupid, I should've checked it was working properly, I'm sorry…"

"It's okay, Vicky," Grace murmured soothingly as she moved to examine the dress. It was light pink suitable for a princess. It was the perfect Sweet Sixteen dress. "I could call Mr. Orwell and explain what happened. Maybe he can pick it up a couple of hours later. That should give us enough time to replace it, right?"

"You could try rubbing some graphite on it," Kurt said before he even thought about it. The three women turned to look at him blankly. "It'll loosen it up."

"Really?" Hannah, the other girl frowned doubtfully.

"Yeah, really… do any of you have a pencil?" Kurt asked capably. Victoria immediately handed one to him. He very carefully rubbed the graphite on the zipper, making sure he avoided the fabric. He rubbed a scrap of cloth over the surface when he was done and passed it back to Grace. "This usually fixes it. You can use bar soap or candle wax, too, but the convenient point on a pencil is easier to get into the teeth."

Grace unzipped and zipped the dress two or three times, checking it, her frown transforming to a delighted smile.

"Wow. It worked beautifully," she looked at Kurt, relieved. "That was a great trick, Paul! Thank you! You just saved us a lot of time. And a headache, too. Mr. Orwell isn't a very patient man."

Kurt smiled shyly in response, pink with gratification at being able to help.

Grace clapped her hands, ready to tackle the next problem. "So. What's the next emergency?"

"Well, it's not an emergency, really," Hannah explained, as they moved towards her work table. Beside it, was a dressmaker's dummy with a gown over it, in a lovely emerald green. "I finished it this morning, but I think it looked a lot better on paper than it looks in real life." She pointed at the sketch pinned to a cork board on the wall next to her table. "It's a little frumpy."

"You're right," Grace said thoughtfully, glancing between the sketch and the dress. "It looks like something my grandma would've bought…"

"I'm not sure exactly what to do with it, though," Hannah admitted. "Is there a way to modify it without having to start over from scratch?"

Grace studied the design thoughtfully, wheels in her head turning as she tried to imagine a solution.

Once again, Kurt spoke without thinking. "I think it's the collar."

Once again, the three women turned to him in surprise.

"Uhm. I'm sorry. I don't mean to butt in…" He mumbled, uncomfortably.

"No, it's okay," Grace said, handing the sketch to him. "What would you do to fix it?"

Kurt hesitated for a moment, not sure if he was infringing or not. "Uh, well. I would open up the neckline a little more. It feels like it's gonna choke someone this way. Maybe a square collar? It's a little sexier, but in an elegant way, without revealing too much cleavage." He leaned over the table with the sketch and the pencil he was still holding, and drew a new version of the dress next to the old one.

He gave it back to Grace when he was done, who studied it carefully, before a smile lit up her face again. "Paul, this is amazing! Blaine never mentioned you had a flair for fashion!"

Kurt shrugged diffidently. "I just like clothes. It's not a big deal."

"But honey, you have a great eye for this!" Grace insisted, giving the sketch to Hannah, who immediately started planning the modifications she would have to make. "Do you know how to sew?"

Kurt ran his hand admiringly over one of the sewing machines, thinking of his mother's machine. He'd had no choice but to sell it a long time ago, when money was too tight. "Yeah, a little bit."

"You're full of wonderful surprises, my dear," she said, putting a warm hand on his arm and squeezing gently.

Kurt beamed at her and, for the first time, he wasn't faking at all.

* * *

Blaine and Cooper had moved on from audition videos to playing video games, only stopping to make some grilled cheese for lunch. For a while, Blaine felt like a teenager again. They had done this so many times when Blaine was still in high school and Cooper came back to Ohio for a visit. Life had seemed incredibly easy when his worries were limited to not letting Cooper win and avoid leaving crumbs on the couch so their mother wouldn't get mad at them later.

Blaine couldn't understand why growing up and facing real life had to ruin that carefree feeling that had floated around him back then.

"You're not mad at me for how I behaved with Paul yesterday, right?" Cooper said, eyes still glued to the screen and fingers working frantically on the buttons of his controller.

"I'm mostly annoyed," Blaine admitted, face scrunched up in concentration. "I appreciate why you do it, in a way. But I don't need you to be constantly looking after me, Coop. I'm not a kid anymore."

"Old habits die hard," Cooper muttered, then he paused the game, suddenly looking thoughtful. "Hey. Do you think I'd ever get to play John McLane in a remake?"

Blaine rolled his eyes, not surprised Cooper managed to turn the conversation back to himself again. "I don't know. Bruce Willis' shoes are hard to fill."

"I'm much more attractive than him, though, don't you think?" Cooper asked as they resumed the game. "I mean, as a gay man, who would you prefer?"

"Well, I'm not sure. I mean, yeah, I guess you're good looking, but you're my brother," Blaine replied. "It would be weirdly creepy for me to say that you're more attractive than Bruce Willis. Even though he's old enough to be my dad… he's got the ultra-macho thing going on."

"Blaine, come on! You're not helping me here. What kind of brother are you?" Cooper pouted.

"A non-creepy one," Blaine said, still completely focused on the game. Then he paused it when they heard the front door open.

Kurt and their mother barely had time to step into the living room before Cooper was kneeling on the couch and looking at them expectantly.

"Paul, do you think that Bruce Willis is hotter than me?" He asked, blue eyes pleading. He added his charming smile, just in case it would help his brother's boyfriend make a decision.

Kurt's eyes widened in surprise for a moment. He glanced at Blaine for some guidance, who was chuckling lightly. He assumed this was just Cooper being Cooper and shrugged. "What parameters are we using for this comparison? Because I'm not exactly sure what to say. He's a little old…"

"That's what I said," Blaine muttered, but Cooper shushed him.

"Yes, yes, I know he could be our dad, but… do you think he's attractive?"

"Mm, he was more appealing maybe around the time he did that guest appearance on Friends?" Kurt said thoughtfully, sitting beside Blaine on the arm of the couch. "Tough guys aren't my type, though."

"Am I more your type?" Cooper beamed, hopefully.

Kurt turned to Blaine, arching an eyebrow. "Am I being hit on by your brother or something? I'm a little confused."

"Nah, he's just being typically weird," Blaine patted his knee reassuringly, relieved that Kurt seemed a lot more relaxed around his family now. "He's fishing for compliments, so just ignore him."

"Screw you, guys," Cooper retorted, still pouting. "Mom thinks I'm hotter than Bruce Willis, right, Mom?"

Grace laughed at her son's antics and ran a hand through his hair. "Of course, Cooper. All those Hollywood stars have nothing on you."

"Mom," Blaine whined. "Don't encourage him. He doesn't need to love himself any more than he already does."

"Oh shut it, B. You're just jealous that I'm Mom's favorite," Cooper said petulantly.

"Actually," Grace said, standing next to the couch and putting a hand on Kurt's shoulder. "I'm pretty sure Paul's my favorite."

It must have been fun for Grace to see the three boys' very different reactions. Cooper immediately let out an exclamation of mock outrage and disbelief, Blaine looked at Kurt as if he'd never seen him before in his life before turning back to his mother with the same expression, and Kurt… Kurt's eyes widened for a moment, incredulous.

Grace chuckled and wrapped her arms around Kurt's frame, hugging him from behind and smiling. "Oh Blaine, you should've seen him. Your boyfriend is absolutely amazing. How come you never told me he's a fashion prodigy?"

"I… what?" Blaine gaped like a fish out of the water. How was it possible that in just a few hours that Kurt had managed to charm his mother like this. It was then that he noticed a new emotion he had never seen in Kurt's eyes until now – it looked as if he was pleased with himself, but trying to hide it. "You are?" He asked Kurt, surprised.

Kurt simply shrugged and let Grace explain.

"We had to stop by the boutique because the girls needed my help with two dresses… and he just walked in there, took one look at the dresses and knew exactly how to fix them!" Grace was glowing with excitement. "He even made a sketch for the second one in less than two minutes and it was… it was _perfect_."

"I… didn't know," Blaine admitted, turning to look at Kurt, still terribly impressed.

"Well, don't be surprised if I call every now and then to ask him for his opinions," Grace said with one more squeeze to Kurt's shoulders before letting go. "Actually, scratch that. I may not ever let him leave this house. I'll kidnap him and keep him here to be my fashion whisperer."

Kurt managed to laugh, but a proud blush was spreading over his cheeks. Blaine couldn't believe what he was seeing.

Sitting next to him was a man completely different from the one he'd been seeing the past few days. And something told him that this, this Kurt blushing and smiling and feeling pleased when Blaine's mother complimented him… was more genuine than anything else he'd seen until now.

This man, who until now was always so bitter, so angry, became even more mysterious. Blaine wondered if he would ever reach the inner layers that were hidden under his hard protective shell, but he resolved to try.

Blaine also didn't understand why he seemed to care so much about that.

Cooper followed Grace to the kitchen, to press his case for being her favorite. Kurt was looking down at his hands, tangled in his lap, with a lingering ghost of a smile on his lips. Blaine watched him, unable to grasp how there could be so many versions of just one man.

"You never said you liked fashion," Blaine commented at last, needing to fill the silence.

Kurt's smile disappeared, his shell snapped back in place. "I don't say much about anything, actually."

"I'm glad today went well," Blaine continued in a soft voice, not wanting anyone to overhear. "Sorry you got trapped into spending the day with mom."

"It was okay," Kurt shrugged once again. It seemed to be the only thing he did lately. "She didn't ask many questions. I hope I didn't screw up at the boutique. You never mentioned if Paul likes clothes or not…"

"Not particularly," Blaine answered. "But this is great, really. And I'm happy to see it wasn't so bad for you. You look… different, somehow. As if…"

"Listen, Blaine," Kurt glanced quickly at the doorway, making sure no one was coming back into the living room. "It was an impulse and I'm glad it worked out alright. But I don't want to talk about it anymore, okay? We both know what this arrangement is about, so let's keep it business."

Blaine frowned. There he was again, pushing him away, shutting him out. Of course, Kurt had all the right in the world to keep their relationship professional, but it didn't make it any less disconcerting. "Right."

Kurt looked visibly uncomfortable again, all trace of smile and pleasure gone from his face. Blaine wished he could bring them back, because things had seemed a lot easier for a moment.

They had also looked a lot more real than they actually were.

Blaine stood up. "Well, I think I'm gonna go take Nayla out for a run." He had no idea why he added the next words, maybe because he was sure Kurt would say no but he didn't want to seem rude. "Would you like to come with me?"

Once more, Kurt surprised him. "Yeah. Yeah, I'd like that. I need some air too."

Blaine blinked in obvious shock. "Oh. Alright."

They made their way upstairs to get changed in utter silence.

* * *

It was a perfect day to be outside. The sun was bright, there were no clouds in the sky and the soft breeze felt like a caress on their skin as they jogged.

Kurt wasn't one for regular exercise. Most days he barely made it out of bed, too underfed and exhausted to go for a run on a daily basis. But he appreciated the chance to deal with the adrenaline and the repressed feelings he'd been accumulating since arriving at Blaine's parents' house.

Just one look at Blaine was enough to know he did this regularly, though – not only because his breathing was controlled and his pace constant, but because his thighs and calves were muscular and defined and his t-shirt hugged his back.

Kurt shook his head. Was he checking Blaine out? He must have been crazy.

Being outside felt good. He didn't feel the need to talk to Blaine if he didn't want to, or to play his role, the way he had to around the other members of his family. Things with Grace were easier, but Kurt still felt like any minute she would ask a question that would ruin everything.

Today had been a weird day. He had indulged impulses that he'd buried long ago. He still loved fashion as much as when he was a teenager, but he didn't pay as much attention to it. The off-duty clothes he owned were from his college days and most of them were now very worn. He didn't feel like there was any point in buying nice things to wear, with nowhere to go and no one to appreciate them but him – and even if that would've been enough when he was younger, nothing was enough now. Kurt simply didn't find any pleasure in any of the things he used to love. Everything that used to make him happy seemed unimportant these days.

Kurt was so lost in his own thoughts that he didn't notice Blaine stopping to allow Nayla to sniff at a patch of grass, looking for a place to pee. He narrowly dodged colliding against Blaine's back, stumbled on a crack on the sidewalk, and sprawled onto the ground before he could even process what was going on.

He'd managed to avoid hitting his head by instinctively catching his fall with his hands, feeling the burn in his palms immediately. His knees seemed to have taken the brunt of his fall though. Before he could actually inspect them, Blaine was next to him.

"Are you okay?" He asked, hands raised in the air but not daring to touch Kurt.

"You and your damn dog," Kurt mumbled with clenched teeth, barely holding back tears. He sat on the grass next to the sidewalk and rolled his yoga pants up to find both his knees were badly skinned, with blood pouring down his calf. "Shit."

"I'm so sorry," Blaine said, biting his lip. "I thought you'd have enough time to stop or that you would have time to turn or… god, I'm sorry."

"Just shut up," Kurt's eyes stung as he did his best not to cry. This was nothing. He'd felt worse pain every time some asshole fucked him roughly. It was stupid to cry about something as inconsequential as skinned knees.

"I'll help you up. We're not that far away from the house," Blaine reached to take a hold of him, but Kurt flinched back.

"I can do it on my own," he said, refusing to look at Blaine. He tried to stand, but he let out a gasp of pain and sank to the ground again, because his knees hurt like a bitch.

"Come on. Let me help you," Blaine murmured almost pleadingly. "Just this once."

Kurt bit his lip and reluctantly reached his hand up, still not looking at him. Blaine ignored Kurt's hand, put his arm around his back, and gently settled him on his feet. He didn't let go once Kurt was standing.

"Does it hurt too badly? I'm pretty sure you won't need any stitches, but I can drive you to the hospital to be sure, if you want," Blaine offered softly, his one arm still wrapped around Kurt and Nayla's leash in his free hand.

"I don't need a hospital," Kurt replied immediately. God, he hated hospitals.

"Okay," Blaine agreed, probably sensing it was better not to argue. "Just lean on me a little and I'll help you back home. I would offer to carry you there, but I'm pretty sure you'd punch me in the face if I did."

"Don't you dare try carrying me," Kurt glared at him. He had no doubt at all that Blaine would be able to carry him if he wanted – Blaine looked strong, his arms were muscular enough, and Kurt didn't weigh much, but he refused to rely on anyone.

He knew he was scrawny, but it's hard to put on much weight when you live on canned soup and cheap take out, or when your customers like to feel your ribs against their hands as they fuck you.

Kurt swallowed and pushed those thoughts away. He would be back to his real life soon enough.

"We're almost there," Blaine muttered after a couple of minutes. They could already see the roof of the Anderson house through some trees.

Kurt expected Blaine to let go of him once they were home, but he solicitously guided him into the kitchen and then helped him sit on a chair. Kurt would've snapped at him to let him take care of it, but here they were at risk of someone hearing them, so he had to bite his tongue.

"Stay right there," Blaine said, rummaging hurriedly through a kitchen cabinet. "My mom has a first aid kit here somewhere… oh, here it is!"

"Blaine, this isn't necessary. I can clean them up myself in the bathroom," Kurt whispered sharply.

Blaine ignored him. "Let me do this, Kurt. Let me do this one thing for you. It's my fault you fell."

Kurt sighed in annoyance. It was easier to say yes, than argue with Blaine's guilt complex. "Fine."

Blaine knelt on the cold tiled kitchen floor before him, with the first aid kit opened next to him. "We'll roll your pant legs up again so I can clean up properly."

Blaine helped Kurt expose his legs, now crusted with dried blood. Blaine drenched a ball of cotton in antiseptic and carefully cleaned the blood off Kurt's knees, then wet paper towels to wash his calves. Now that the bleeding had stopped, his cleaned knees looked far less intimidating.

Kurt watched Blaine as he worked intently. The way he so carefully dabbed the cotton on his leg, so careful, so focused on what he was doing, seemed foreign to Kurt. It felt like endless years since anyone had cared for him so gently. Blaine put the cotton down to dispose of it later and reached into the kit for a little red bottle of iodine. Kurt thought of the thousand times his dad had held him and made him feel better after he had skinned his knees when he was a kid, learning to ride his bike.

"I'm sorry, but this is gonna sting a little," Blaine looked up at him with big, apologetic hazel eyes.

Kurt nodded his permission, but he still hissed when the liquid touched the places where the skin had broken. He clenched his teeth and a solitary tear made its way down his cheek. He wiped it away quickly, hoping Blaine didn't notice, and blamed it on the antiseptic, instead of the powerful, overwhelming memories of his father's comforting love.

"Sorry," Blaine muttered with a grimace. "I hate this stuff, but it's the best way to prevent an infection." He leaned in closer and blew softly to make the sting go away.

Kurt's breath caught in his throat. Why was Blaine doing this? Why did he care? Why did he even bother? He could've given Kurt the first aid kit and let him do this himself, but instead… instead he was _taking care of him_.

It sent warmth all through him and it hurt at the same time. The former because Kurt had forgotten that human beings were capable of selfless compassion, because it felt like life was giving him some a bit of a break and putting someone in front of him who didn't see a body to use for their own benefit, but a _real person_. It sent warmth through him because he'd missed having someone who worried about him, who wanted to help him – someone who didn't hesitate to take care of him when he needed help.

But it hurt because it wouldn't last. Kurt knew that he would have to return to working his street corner soon.

Good things never lasted long in his world.

* * *

**I'll try to get Chater 7 up on Saturday, because it's a big one and I'm very excited about you guys reading it, but no promises. It's my birthday so I probably won't be around to update. However, it _is_ Klaine's anniversary as well, so I'll do my best to update.**

**I hope you enjoyed reading this - hit review and let me know what you thought of this chapter!**

**Have a wonderful week.**

**L.-**


	7. Chapter 7

**Hi everyone!**

**I hope you all had a lovely week. Thank you so much for the reviews and, especially, all the wonderful birthday wishes. **

**I wanted to get this chapter up yesterday to celebrate Klaine's Anniversary, but it was impossible since my power and Internet were down for two days (yay Argentina! u.u). Happy belated Klaine Anniversary to all of you :)**

**This is a short chapter but a very important one, so I hope you'll enjoy.**

**Thanks to my wonderful betas, Wutif and Christine for being the awesomest betas in the fandom. Mwah.**

**I own nothing!**

* * *

When Kurt woke the next morning, Blaine had already put away his blankets and his pillow and was gone – gone where, Kurt could only guess. He was probably with Nayla, taking her out for her morning walk. In just a couple of days, Kurt had learned a lot of little details like that about Blaine's life.

He knew Blaine liked to be outside as much as he could. He knew Blaine was compassionate, selfless and sweet. He knew Blaine loved kids – he talked about the kids in his class with the same love a father would have for his son or daughter. He knew that what mattered the most to Blaine was his family, and that when they were all together, he was the happiest. He knew Blaine dreamed of finding a man and getting married, of raising children of his own. He knew how Blaine liked his coffee and his favorite food. He knew that Blaine usually dressed very nicely, but he also loved curling up on the couch to watch a movie or read, wearing his favorite old hoodie he'd had since college.

It was Tuesday morning, and he already knew all of those things about Blaine, after a little over three days.

He was such a fool.

Maybe, at some point, while Blaine was cuddling him on the couch or while he was holding his hand, or while he had an arm wrapped around him to help him get back home after he fell, Kurt had forgotten that, wonderful as all those things were, their relationship was all a lie, a lie that would end in less than a week.

What good would it do to Kurt to allow himself to enjoy these things, when he would only end up feeling even more dejected and alone when it was over? How was he supposed to go back to his miserable life after getting a taste of what a _normal_ loving relationship felt like?

He knew now that accepting Blaine's offer had been the biggest mistake of his life, and yet, at the same time, he was grateful for it, because it allowed him to take a break from the hell he lived every single day.

He was disconcerted with all the gentle touches, shoulder squeezes, hugs and words of appreciation he'd received since he first stepped into the Anderson's house. People didn't hug him – people pushed him to his knees to suck them off. People never praised the things he did or who he was – unless they were telling him what a great slut he was, taking it so well, and _you love that, don't you, filthy little whore?_

Kurt closed his eyes. In Blaine's world, those things didn't exist. In Blaine's world there were no dirty alleys or furtive strangers in the dark. There were no sweat-dampened rolls of cash pushed into his hands, paying him for things that weren't even supposed to be on offer. In Blaine's world there was no soul-numbing loneliness, even if Blaine couldn't really see it yet (impatient, so impatient to find someone to love – as if a guy like Blaine wouldn't soon find a great man who'd love him unconditionally and make all his dreams come true).

All these thoughts only made Kurt's bitterness expand through him like a fire through a forest, burning everything up, leaving nothing but sad, vague ashes in its wake. Unable to bear his thoughts for one more second, Kurt got up and went into the bathroom, turned the water on the shower, and avoided looking at himself in the mirror as he got undressed.

Under the spray, he lathered up over and over again, as he always did – _not clean enough, never clean enough_ –, dense layers of foam on his pale skin washed away by the warm water. He felt worn thin, too tired to face another day. He wished he could hide under a pile of blankets for a few years, avoiding everything and everyone, hoping that would be enough to make all the bad things fade away.

He turned off the shower and as he reached for a towel, he made the mistake of glancing towards the mirror. His reflection was pale, so pale, with dark marks under hollow eyes that had once been bright and happy. His skin stretched too thin over his ribs and his hipbones jutted out. He looked sick – he _felt_ sick, and couldn't regret that he would never survive long enough to get old. After all these years, it still tore him apart when he thought about how his life had turned out, when his father had such wonderful hopes and dreams for him.

Today was not a good day.

* * *

Blaine had once again woken up too early, had breakfast with his father before he left for work, and then his mother had him try on the suit he planned to wear to the party to see if it needed to be adjusted by the tailor. After she confirmed the hems were right and the buttons on his shirt were secured, she had allowed him to change back into his casual clothes. He went upstairs to his room to put the suit in his closet, but when he opened the door he froze in his tracks.

Kurt was standing by the bed, rummaging in his bag, looking for his clothes for the day.

Completely naked.

"Oh my god, I'm so sorry," Blaine exclaimed, lifting his hand to cover his eyes. "I should've knocked. I didn't know you were…"

"It's fine. I forgot to take my clothes in there with me when I showered," Kurt said in a flat tone.

"I was just, uhm, going to put my suit in the closet, but I'll… I'll come back in a minute," Blaine, his eyes still hidden behind his hand, managed to open the door and slip back out to the hallway, where he leaned against the wall and let out a shaky breath.

It wasn't the first time that Blaine was struck by the way Kurt looked, but now it felt like Kurt's sensuality was flashing before his eyes in neon lights. He'd never seen a skin as creamy as Kurt's, and his legs were so long…

No. He wasn't supposed to… no. It was completely inappropriate.

Blaine shook his head to rid his memory of the enticing images replaying in his head.

He counted to fifty and then knocked on the door softly. Kurt told him to enter, and Blaine reopened the door and entered the room again, feeling a stupid blush growing on his face.

Kurt was now folding the rest of his clothes and carefully putting them back into the duffel bag, dressed in a pair of jeans and the sweater he'd been wearing on Friday.

Blaine couldn't help but start babbling again. "Kurt, I'm so sorry. I'll make sure to knock next time, but I just assumed you were still sleeping and I…"

"Can you relax, Blaine? I'm a whore. You're not the first man to see me naked, and you won't be the last, I can assure you of that," Kurt interrupted sharply.

Blaine frowned as he looked at the other man, his embarrassment suddenly forgotten. He held the words for a few seconds, but simply let them go when he realized he couldn't stop them completely. "Why do you do that?"

"Do _what_?" Kurt asked, blue eyes fixing on him defensively.

"Talk about yourself like that," Blaine answered. "You're so… self-demeaning. Why do you do that to yourself?" He took a few steps closer to Kurt. "What good does it do?"

"Just… shut up, Blaine," Kurt mumbled, closing his eyes and pinching the bridge of his nose as if he had a headache Blaine was making worse.

"I just… I don't get it. You don't have to be anything you don't want to be and it's never late to change. If you want to…"

"Shut up!" Kurt exclaimed, this time a little louder. "What the fuck do you think you're doing, Blaine? What the hell do you want from me? Do you think you can just change my whole damn life with all these oh so wise words? Well, think again! Nothing works that way; _life_ doesn't work that way! Maybe in your perfect little world it does. Maybe in your perfect little world, if you wake up one day and you don't like what you are or where you are, you just go ahead and change it! But real life is different, my reality is different, and I don't need you to tell me that I can change anything!" Kurt was completely out of control, his cheeks reddened with rage and tears clinging to his eyelashes.

Blaine back-tracked, putting his hands up as if wanting to placate a wild beast. "Hey. It's okay. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to…"

"What, Blaine? What was it that you didn't mean to do? Walk in and see me naked? Ask me stupid questions? _What_?" Kurt continued ranting, and now it looked like he was having trouble breathing. "I can answer all of them, if that's what you want. I can answer all your goddamn questions, so you realize that nothing is as simple as it is in your fucking fantasy world. So, what do you want to know first? Do you want to know why I call myself a whore? Well, because that's what I am. And you want to know _why _I'm a whore? I'm a whore because that's all I'm good for. All I can do with my pathetic little life is get on my knees and suck cock. Don't you think that's a good enough reason to call myself a whore?"

Blaine wasn't sure exactly what had made Kurt explode like this, but watching that explosion was a horrible, terrifying experience. Blaine could see all the cracks that Kurt had been trying to hide, pushing them under the surface. He felt helpless, now that he could see just how broken he was.

"Kurt. Please, just… I'm sorry," Blaine murmured sadly.

"I don't need you to be sorry," Kurt said, wrapping his arms around himself as if in a last attempt to hold himself together. "I don't need anything."

With those words, Kurt pushed past Blaine towards the door. Blaine scrambled after him, surprised and desperately wishing he could do something that would fix this, at least a little bit.

"Wait! Where are you going?" He asked, following him down the stairs.

"Out," Kurt replied in a cold voice.

Blaine stopped on the last stair and watched him walk into the kitchen. He heard Kurt's voice sounding nearly normal and heard his mother responding. Less than a minute after that, Kurt strode back out of the kitchen and marched out the front door.

"Ku…- Paul!" Blaine exclaimed, standing in the doorway, correcting himself at the last possible second. Kurt was heading towards his mother's car. "What are you doing?"

"Your mom let me borrow her car," Kurt said, as he opened the door and climbed on the driver's seat. "I'll be back later."

"Please don't go. Come on, just… let's talk. Or not. Whatever you want," Blaine wasn't sure exactly what to do or say. He didn't want to make this worse.

Kurt completely ignored him. He closed the car door, turned the engine on, and drove away.

In seconds, Blaine ran towards his own car, telling himself he was going after Kurt to make sure he wasn't running away with his mother's car. He told himself he wanted to make sure he returned. He told himself he didn't care and he told himself he wasn't worried, but he wasn't very convincing.

* * *

The further Kurt drove, the more concerned Blaine became. He had no idea where he could be going, and after over an hour of being in the car, he was starting to really believe that Kurt was running away.

_But… he didn't take his stuff. He wouldn't leave without his bag, right? And what about the money? Considering how eagerly he took the cash I gave him… he must really need it. He wouldn't just leave without it._

_He wouldn't leave without telling me, right?_

Blaine squeezed the steering wheel nervously, eyes fixed on his mother's red hybrid Toyota. Why had he opened his big mouth and ruined everything? Why had he asked questions that weren't any of his business and upset Kurt? Everyone was entitled to have a bad day, but this was obviously more than that. Blaine realized he had trespassed into things he knew nothing about, even if his intentions had been good.

What if Kurt disappeared with his mother's car? God, he really didn't want to call the cops on him. He didn't want to go back to his parents' house and have to explain what had happened either.

_Stupid. You're so stupid, Blaine._

He should've just apologized for walking in without knocking and left it at that. He shouldn't have made such a big deal out of it. He shouldn't have pushed so hard. It didn't matter that his brain had seemed to have shut down at the sight of Kurt's body. He should've forced his brain to function properly.

Just when he was starting to think that Kurt would never stop and that he would have to chase him for the rest of the day, he saw the red car slow to exit on the right. He followed discretely, as Kurt turned a corner, then drove straight for two blocks and turned again. It looked like he was actually going somewhere instead of merely driving aimlessly. But where was he going?

The answer to that question was answered when Kurt drove through a cemetery gate.

Frowning in confusion, Blaine hesitated outside the gate for a moment. A cemetery? Why would Kurt go to a cemetery? Common sense told him he shouldn't follow him inside, that it was better to wait there until Kurt came out, or even better, go back home and wait for Kurt there. But it seemed that Blaine wasn't done making mistakes today, so he cautiously drove after Kurt, careful to put enough distance between them so he wouldn't notice he was being followed.

After a couple of minutes, Kurt parked and exited the car, as if he was escaping from something. He looked desperate. He looked desperate. Blaine's fingers clenched around the steering wheel.

Strongly suspecting it was probably a really bad idea, Blaine parked his car, too, behind some concealing trees. He slowly crept closer to stand behind a large gravestone that was close enough for him to keep an eye on Kurt, who was now hunched in front of a grave, fingers scrunched in the grass and body shaking as he sobbed.

Seeing Kurt so absolutely broken was a brutal shock to Blaine. Kurt always seemed impervious, coolly indifferent to everything around him, remotely untouchable. But now he didn't look untouchable at all. He looked as if all of the world's miseries fallen on his shoulders and dragging him down.

As Blaine stood completely still, the breeze brought to his ears the strangled sounds of Kurt's crying. He was saying something, but Blaine couldn't understand a single word. Who was buried there? Why did Kurt feel the need to come to this place?

Daring to step a little closer, Blaine moved, careful not to step on any branches that would announce his presence. He hid behind a tree as Kurt's sobs grew more and more painful. His heart broke for him – Kurt looked paler, weaker, defeated. He'd never imagined that the man he'd met that night at the alleyway could look like this. But, Blaine thought to himself, they were two very different men. The one at the alleyway was the mask and here, crumbling before his eyes, was the real Kurt.

Kurt rested his forehead against the granite gravestone and a few words carried to where Blaine was hiding. The words were broken, filled with exhaustion.

"I can't anymore. I can't, I _can't_…" Kurt was saying as he cried harder. "Please, take me with you. I don't want to do this anymore. Please. _Please_."

Blaine felt like crying himself as he watched the force of Kurt's sobs shake his entire, frail body. Blaine slid down to the grass, sitting with his back against the tree, unable to intrude into Kurt's grief anymore. He felt like he was betraying him for being here when it was so obvious this was something so incredibly private for Kurt. But at the same time… he didn't want to be anywhere else. He wanted to crawl to Kurt, gather him in his arms and do anything he could to stop his pain.

But maybe Kurt's pain was too deep to be stopped. Maybe Kurt was too broken for anyone to comfort him.

* * *

Blaine wasn't sure how long he sat there, listening to Kurt's muffled pleas, until everything grew quiet. He peered around the tree at the gravestone, and found that Kurt was curled up on the grass, with his eyes closed and his breathing settling back to normal. But as Blaine watched, Kurt sighed shakily and wiped his eyes – reddened and tired – and stood up. He looked at the grave one last time with sad resignation, and then he walked slowly back to the car.

He drove away slowly, as if he was too spent to move any faster, and Blaine couldn't help but worry that something awful would happen to him, that he would get on crash…

That he would intentionally crash the car.

His heart clenching painfully, Blaine got to his feet, ready to follow and make sure Kurt didn't hurt himself. However, he couldn't walk away without solving at least one mystery.

He walked to the gravestone feeling as if the world was closing down on him. Because right now, everything that mattered to Blaine was whatever piece of information that gravestone would give him about Kurt.

To soothe Kurt's pain, first he needed to understand.

He stopped at the gravestone, took a deep breath, his hazel eyes reading the words engraved there.

_Eloise Hummel - Burt Hummel_

_(1970-2002) - (1969 – 2012)_

_Wonderful, loving parents who left too soon_

Blaine felt all the air in his lungs choking him. Those… those could only be Kurt's parents. And they had died years ago… Kurt must have only been a kid back then. Had he been all alone in the world since then? Was there anyone he could lean on? Was there anyone he trusted? Did he have anyone who he could call his family?

Somehow, thinking about Kurt's earlier words (_please, take me with you, please_), Blaine knew exactly what the answers to those questions were.

* * *

**Please review and let me know if you liked the chapter!**

**I'll see you again on Saturday. Have a great week!**

**L.-**


	8. Chapter 8

**Hi guys :)**

**I'm back with a new chapter - another big one, if I say so myself. Thank you so much for your reviews and wonderful comment! The responses to this story keep getting better and better with every chapter, and I'm so grateful. Thanks for coming back every week to read more!**

**Thank you Wutif and Christine for your endless help with this and all the other chapters. **

**I own nothing!**

* * *

There was no trace of Kurt's breakdown visible on his face when he returned to the Anderson's, other than seeming a little tired. Blaine arrived home before Kurt, which meant he must have stopped somewhere on the way home to recover for a while. No one would have guessed from his collected appearance where he'd been and what he'd been doing.

Kurt avoided any opportunity for Blaine to discuss what had happened earlier between them by staying near Blaine's family, though he didn't say much. Blaine was fine with that. He needed more time to put his thoughts in order, because his emotions were completely jumbled, bouncing everywhere.

He stared at the ceiling for hours in the silence of the night and listened to Kurt's breathing, haunted by the image of Kurt kneeling in front of his parents' grave, sobbing as he begged for help that would never come. He should've known that Kurt was a lot more complex than the bitchy front he put up. Blaine usually was very good at reading people – he was attentive and through working with children he had learned to see beyond the obvious. How had he missed this? How had he let Kurt's abrasive manner fool him? How had Kurt managed to hide such deep wounds? How had Blaine missed the pain hidden in those blue eyes?

It was obvious to Blaine that Kurt had a lot of practice at hiding his feelings. How long had it been since Kurt had put up those defensive walls? Hadn't he had anyone to take care of him after his parents were gone? It hurt to think that Kurt must have been just a kid when his life fell apart on him. He'd had to grow up so suddenly, left entirely on his own. Blaine swallowed the lump of emotion choking him, fingers tightening on the blankets. He didn't even want to imagine what it must have been like – losing everything, and everyone you cared about. Having nothing left to remind you that there's still good out there in the world, if you know where to look.

Blaine remembered Kurt tensing when his mother affectionately hugged him, or whenever anyone touched him. He remembered the stiffness of his body, the tightness of his smile, the vague discomfort in his eyes. It wasn't difficult to understand why he acted that way. Blaine didn't even want to know how long it had been since anyone had offered him a gentle touch, out of pure affection and kindness. It made his heart ache to know Kurt was far more familiar with people touching him in more callous ways, but that he couldn't find the warmth comfort of a hug even remotely soothing.

How had Kurt's life led him to what he did now, to that alley where Blaine had found him? Blaine could guess, but the idea was still so foreign to him. How could the world turn its back on Kurt until he was forced to allow strangers to touch him, to do things to him that Blaine could only consider doing with someone he trusted, someone he loved? Blaine closed his eyes tightly, willing those painful thoughts away.

Kurt whined in his sleep, turning so Blaine could see his troubled face. There was nothing peaceful about Kurt's sleep with no escape even in his dreams. Blaine watched Kurt cling to a pillow, wishing he could just wake him so he could avoid whatever his subconscious was showing him. But was Kurt's reality much better when he was awake?

Pale sunlight was starting to bathe the room by the time Blaine fell asleep. Just before his exhausted eyes closed, the morning light softly illuminated Kurt's face, his lips forming two silent words that Blaine clearly understood.

_Help me._

* * *

Blaine woke early, in spite of only falling asleep at dawn, leaving Kurt to his restless dreams. He walked into the kitchen just as his father was putting his empty cup of coffee into the sink.

"Good morning, son." His dad's welcoming smile vanished as he took a closer look at Blaine. "Everything alright?"

"Yeah, I just didn't sleep very well last night," Blaine answered pensively, moving to the fridge to find something for breakfast.

"Any particular reason?" Henry asked, eyes fixed intently on him.

Blaine forced a smile, hoping it would look convincing. "No, don't worry about it. I just had a lot on my mind."

"If you want to talk about anything, I have some time," Henry glanced at the clock on the wall behind them. "I can go to work a little later..."

"Dad, really, I'm fine," Blaine assured him. "Just work stuff. There's always so much to do with the kids after Spring Break and I couldn't stop thinking about new activities..."

Henry clasped a hand on Blaine's shoulder. "Well, then. For a moment I thought you might be concerned about you and Paul. Are you considering what I told you about the other day? About the engagement ring?"

Blaine almost dropped the pan he'd grabbed to make scrambled eggs. "I-I'm just not sure we're ready for that step yet..."

"No pressure. I'm just putting it out there, Blaine." Henry raised his hands and winked at him. "Okay, I'm going to work now, but I'll see you later. Maybe we can all go out for dinner when I come back..."

"Sure, I'd love that..." Blaine said distractedly, as he watched his father leave.

He didn't need to think about engagement rings, on top of everything.

Were his parents hoping he'd propose to his boyfriend during their anniversary party? Blaine didn't even want to imagine what Kurt would do if he got down on one knee and presented a ring to him in front of everyone else. And how was he going to explain Kurt walking out of his life soon after? What excuse was he going to come up with for their sudden break? What was going to be Blaine's next lie?

He focused his attention on breakfast – stirring the eggs, making sure he didn't burn the bacon, brewing coffee, putting bread in the toaster – because it was easier than allowing his mind to carry on with the endless string of _what ifs_ that threatened to give him a terrible headache. But then he abruptly saw he'd prepared a tray with two cups, two plates, two forks, two knives, and realized what he was doing. He sighed and gave in. This was at least in character, something he would often do for Paul.

Blaine carried the tray upstairs, careful not to spill the coffee. He balanced it on his left arm as he used his right hand to open his bedroom door. Once inside, he gently pushed the door closed again with his foot. Kurt was still sleeping, curled around the pillow under the blankets – there were dark marks under his eyes and the same frown he'd seen on his face last night was still in place. He looked as if he'd done anything but rest, though Blaine knew he'd been sleeping for almost ten hours now.

He set the ray on the nightstand and took a deep breath. He didn't know why he was doing this or even if Kurt would react well to being woken up, but for some reason, he needed to do it.

Blaine sat on the edge of the bed, making sure he wasn't anywhere near Kurt. He decided shaking him awake could potentially be a terrible idea, so he murmured, softly. "Kurt? Kurt, wake up."

It was easier than he had expected. Kurt stirred instantly, turning to face Blaine, slightly startled at first, then he looked confused. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing's wrong. I made breakfast," Blaine said, feeling foolish. He offered a cup of coffee to Kurt, a peace offering.

Kurt blinked briefly, then struggled to sit up against the pillows and sighed heavily, as if he was too tired to move. He accepted the coffee, taking a small sip. He didn't say anything, but eyed him warily, waiting for Blaine to say something more.

"I couldn't help noticing you didn't eat much last night," Blaine commented, mostly to fill the silence. "So I made you bacon and scrambled eggs. There's some toast, too, if you want."

Kurt squinted at him for a moment, as if deliberating if he could trust him. He apparently didn't find anything negative in Blaine's face, because he murmured, softly, "thank you."

Blaine settled the tray on the bed next to Kurt so they both could eat. Blaine was sitting at an uncomfortable angle to reach his plate, but he ignored it, more focused on working up the courage to say what he really wanted to say. He took a deep breath. "I'm really sorry."

Kurt seemed startled again. His blue eyes flew to him, the fork halfway to his mouth and his cup of coffee forgotten in his other hand. "What for?"

"You know what for," Blaine said, uncomfortably. "I had no right to ask any of those questions. I should never have talked to you the way I did yesterday. You don't owe me anything, and I appreciate that you're still here when you clearly don't want to be. It was never my intention to make you feel bad."

Kurt remained silent. He set his fork down and clutched his coffee cup, staring into the dark liquid swirling inside of it.

"I'm sorry," Blaine repeated. "I just wanted you to know that. You don't have to forgive me, but I needed to say it."

Kurt nodded and sipped his coffee. Blaine wasn't sure what that nod meant.

Kurt's eyelashes were painting shadows on his cheekbones. Though his eyes looked hollow and empty, they were still the most stunning eyes Blaine had ever seen. His knuckles were squeezed white around the mug, his fingers long and delicate, a lot stronger than they seemed. The old t-shirt he was wearing was a little big on him, hanging crooked on his shoulders. Blaine remembered his slender frame, with ribs and hipbones too sharp to be healthy. Blaine looked at him then, sitting just inches away from him, yet distant, beautiful and unreachable, and saw exactly how tragically broken he was.

He did it because it was his first instinct. He did it because somehow it made sense. He did it because he wanted to make Kurt feel cared for and adored. He did it because he looked at the man in front of him and saw someone who had been abandoned, hurt and defeated, but he didn't want to fix him, because any man who had survived Kurt's life was strong enough to do it for himself, even if he didn't know it yet. He did it because the silently growing attraction towards Kurt suddenly exploded, searing through his veins, making his heart race.

He did it because a voice inside his head was screaming at him that kissing Kurt was what he desperately wanted to do.

Blaine moved forward quickly enough that Kurt didn't have time to react. One second they were sitting there drinking coffee and the next, Blaine's mouth was pressing against his. Blaine slid his lips against Kurt's eagerly when they parted slightly in surprise, tasting coffee, toast and something else, something that tasted sweet, uniquely Kurt.

It didn't last long. As soon as Blaine realized Kurt wasn't kissing him back, he pulled away to see Kurt's eyes were wide with shock. Blaine looked away and swallowed nervously, because that was enough to make him regret what he'd done. He'd clearly made a terrible mistake, considering Kurt was frozen, and unmoving.

What the hell had he been thinking?

"I…" Blaine stood up, avoiding Kurt's eyes. He realized he was still clutching his coffee cup, so he put it down on the nightstand. "I should… I have to go. I… I haven't fed Nayla yet, so…"

He didn't wait for a reply. He was too overwhelmed to stay there for another second and he couldn't deal with Kurt looking at him like that. He walked out of the room and down the stairs, his heart pounding wildly and his lips tingling.

Somehow, he ended up in the backyard. He looked around him, though not really seeing the blue sky and the green grass, and then buried his fingers in his hair. He had no idea what he was doing anymore.

* * *

Kurt sat there for so long he lost all track of time. A breath escaped shakily through his lips.

He closed his eyes and forced the constant horror that lived inside of him to stop choking him, his coffee cup gripped so tightly that it almost shattered.

_Of course_, he thought, bitter, desperate, hopeless. _Of course_.

* * *

It wasn't very hard to avoid Kurt for the rest of the day. Blaine felt ashamed, but he couldn't face the other man right then. Would Kurt forgive him for breaking their agreement? Should he apologize for kissing him? He hadn't had bad intentions – he'd kissed him because he really wanted to. But the way Kurt had reacted (or the way he hadn't reacted at all, actually) meant he'd been wrong in following his instinct.

It didn't matter how beautiful Kurt was or how attracted to him Blaine was. When someone was as broken as Kurt, kissing him out of the blue like that didn't fix anything. It just made it all worse.

Luckily, Cooper was around to distract him. His brother was the perfect person to have around when you didn't want to focus too much on yourself, since Cooper was constantly looking for excuses to talk about himself. All Blaine had to do if the conversation moved towards him or his boyfriend, was ask Cooper a quick question about his own life, and that was it.

Cooper was in the kitchen when Blaine walked back into the house after his sudden freak out. His older brother was leaning against the counter drinking orange juice and reading the entertainment section of the newspaper. Blaine guessed he was trying to find a reference to himself in it, even though it was too soon. His new show wouldn't start for another month or so. However, Cooper wasn't exactly patient when it came to his career.

"Hey, little brother," he said distractedly, flipping the pages.

"Hi, Coop," Blaine muttered. "Anything interesting going on in Hollywood?"

Cooper sighed dramatically. "Not yet. They're still refusing to acknowledge my talent."

"The show hasn't aired yet," Blaine pointed out.

"So what? They should have paparazzi following me around all day asking me about shooting the pilot," Cooper said with a slight pout. "Have you not seen my latest commercial? It was a hit."

"Of course it was," Blaine nodded, not really paying attention. He'd discovered when he was about four years old that his life was much easier when he just agreed to everything Cooper said.

"I was thinking about going out for a run," Cooper put the newspaper down. "I might have a shirtless scene for the second episode, so I need to maintain my fantastic physique. Do you want to come with me?"

Blaine weighed his options. Kurt was still upstairs but he could come down any minute now.

"Yeah, sure."

He tried convincing himself that he was not a coward. He just needed time to put his thoughts in order, but he wasn't fooling anybody.

* * *

By the time Blaine and Cooper returned to the house, panting with sweat dripping down their faces, backs and chests, Blaine had managed to avoid his worries and confusion for a little while.

He wished he could keep running forever.

Cooper landed a heavy pat on his back, grinning. "That was fun. Next time I'll try to run a little slower, though. Must be hard to keep up with those short legs of yours..."

Blaine frowned and punched his brother's arm. "Shut up. I'm not that much shorter..."

"It's okay. I's endearing, having a pocket-sized brother," Cooper took a step back to avoid getting a smack on the head. He grinned, all of his perfectly white teeth on display, as he fished two water bottles out of the fridge. Blaine caught the one he threw at him easily.

They were both gulping down the water when their mother entered the kitchen. Her smile faded as she scrunched her face.

"Guys, go take a shower. You both smell horrible," she said, scowling at Cooper severely when he tried to hug her. She turned to Blaine, frowning slightly. "You should probably check on Paul while you're up there too, sweetie. He came down to leave the breakfast dishes and he looked terrible. He said he had a headache, so I gave him some Advil and told him to go back to bed."

Blaine suddenly felt as if his chest was suddenly hollow. He swallowed some more water to gain some time and then nodded. "Sure. I'll check on him in a minute."

"Let him rest for a while longer if he needs to," Grace murmured gently. "He was even paler than normal. I hope it's just a headache and not the beginning of a cold or flu..."

Blaine nodded again, absently. He knew Kurt's problem had nothing to do with that.

"Okay, let me know if he needs anything," Grace left the kitchen, followed by Cooper who announced he was jumping into the shower.

Blaine leaned against the counter and closed his eyes. He knew he had to go back upstairs and talk to Kurt at some point, but... he didn't know what to say. He didn't want to make things worse. They still had a few more days left and he didn't want to complicate things even more.

Though maybe he had already ruined everything. Maybe he had already pushed Kurt too far.

With a deep breath, Blaine put his empty bottle down on the counter and went to take a shower too. But he never went to check on Kurt.

* * *

One of the many benefits of having such a large house was being able to always find privacy… particularly when he wanted to avoid someone.

Blaine managed to evade Kurt all day. He avoided his mother, too, knowing she would immediately ask about his boyfriend. He would have to face them eventually, but right now his head was a mess and he had no idea how to deal with any of this. He should probably start by apologizing for what he'd done, even if a kiss hadn't taken Blaine's breath away like that in a very long time.

It had been wrong to startle him, even if it had felt so incredibly right.

Once Mr. Anderson returned home at the end of the day, all the distractions and evasions ended.

"Come on, family, let's go out for dinner!" He announced enthusiastically with a clap of his hands.

Blaine was perched on the arm of the couch, channel-surfing as he waited for everyone else to be ready, when Kurt walked into the living room. Blaine couldn't help studying him. He really did look pale and exhausted, as if he had been sick for a very long time. Blaine gulped and wished Kurt would meet his eyes just for one second, so he could at least make sure he was okay with joining his family for dinner.

Blaine had never felt worse than when Kurt looked everywhere but at him.

Grace stepped to him, cupped Kurt's face in her hand and examined him, concerned. "Are you sure you're alright, Paul, sweetheart? You look a little sick. We can stay home, if you're not up for going out..."

"I'm fine," Kurt mumbled, smiling tightly at her before he took a step back, out of her reach. Her hand slid down his cheek and fell to her side. "I just... uhm, I can't seem to get rid of this headache."

"Maybe you should take him to the hospital, Blaine, and get him checked out," she suggested, obviously worried. "Just in case."

"Do you want me to take a look at you, Paul?" Henry said as he stared at Kurt pensively, his doctor side kicking in. "Is there anything else bothering you, beside the headache?"

"I'll be fine," Kurt repeated, his voice strained. Blaine suspected he would snap soon if they kept at him like that, asking question after question.

Blaine decided to intervene. "I'll get him some more Advil when we come back from dinner. I'm sure with a good night's sleep he'll be fine tomorrow. Right?" He looked at Kurt, hoping he would help him.

Kurt's eyes were a sudden flash of grey on his, gone before Blaine could really look into them. "Right."

It was going to be a very long, uncomfortable night.

* * *

The restaurant was one of the places Cooper and Blaine had always loved. Blaine would have enjoyed the excellent meal more if he wasn't feeling so guilty.

Kurt looked bad. Really, really bad. He was silent, eating slowly, and he seemed to be in a faraway world where the sounds of conversation around him didn't reach him. Luckily, Cooper talked enough for all of them, making it easier to avoid thinking about how Kurt was feeling. They left him alone.

Blaine was desperate to go back to the house, to talk to Kurt alone in his bedroom. He knew apologizing again wouldn't be enough to fix this, but maybe talking about it would help Blaine understand why Kurt seemed so entirely broken in the first place. Had the kiss really affected him that much, or was there something else eating him?

Blaine didn't allow his heart to flutter with hope. Or he tried not to, at least.

* * *

As soon as they arrived back at the house, Kurt immediately excused himself, murmuring that he intended to go to bed. Grace squeezed his arm gently, asking him to let her know if he needed anything. Kurt managed another tight smile before slipping past her and disappearing up the stairs.

Blaine watched him go; feeling defeated and lost, and then turned on his heels and went into the kitchen. His mother followed him.

"I'll make you some tea to take up to Paul with the Advil," she said as she filled the kettle with water. "Poor thing. He looks miserable…"

Blaine busied himself looking for a tea bag and a mug. When he didn't say respond, Grace leaned against the counter and studied him.

"Is everything alright between you two? You both seemed… a little distant during dinner," she muttered, hesitantly.

"We're okay," Blaine replied quickly. She opened her mouth to retort, so Blaine fixed her with a stern look. "Mom. We're okay."

"If… you say so," Grace sighed. "But if there's anything you need to talk about…"

"I know," Blaine ran a hand through his hair and forced a brittle smile on his lips. "Thanks, Mom. I'll finish Paul's tea and take it up. You can go to bed, if you want."

She nodded and stopped to kiss his cheek before exiting the kitchen. As soon as she was gone, Blaine felt as if the silence of the house was enveloping him. He wondered what would be waiting for him upstairs. Maybe Kurt would pretend to be asleep so he wouldn't have to deal with Blaine. A part of Blaine hoped he would, so he could delay the conversation a little longer.

But another part, one that was, oddly, stronger, really wanted Kurt to be awake and willing to talk.

He walked up the stairs slowly, careful not to spill the tea. As if not spilling a hot liquid meant he could control anything he wanted to. As if not tipping the mug would help him to not tip his own dreams, hopes and fears all over the floor.

Blaine paused before his bedroom door. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He couldn't hear a sound coming from inside, which meant Kurt was most likely sleeping.

He pushed the door open gently and was surprised to see Kurt sitting on the middle of the bed, eyes downcast and fixed on his hands twisting on his lap. He didn't look up when Blaine walked in.

"I…" Blaine cleared his throat anxiously. "I brought you some tea and more Advil. My mom is really worried about you." He put the cup of tea and the pills on the nightstand.

"Thanks. She's very kind," Kurt answered in a soft voice, still not looking up at him.

Blaine fidgeted uneasily for a few more seconds, unsure how to say exactly what he wanted to say. "Kurt, I…"

"It's okay," Kurt interrupted, quickly cutting him off. "You don't have to say anything, Blaine."

"I think I do," Blaine frowned. "I want you to know what's going on here…"

Kurt shook his head, and finally looked up. Blaine couldn't read him – Kurt was a closed book. Or even more accurately, he was a journal – a journal with a thick leather cover and a lock. He would never be able to see what was inside, unless Kurt gave him the key. "I know what's going on. I'm surprised it took this long, to be honest."

Blaine was completely confused. He tilted his head to the side. "What do you mean?"

"Come on, Blaine," Kurt laughed cynically, a bitter, sad sound that echoed against the walls. "I knew it'd come to this. It was only a matter of time until you figured it out…"

"A matter of time?" Blaine repeated. What the hell was Kurt talking about?

"Yes. It was a matter of time until you realized you're paying for a lot more than what you're actually getting," Kurt murmured acidly.

And then, before Blaine had time to react or process what Kurt had just said, he quickly took his shirt off and his pajama pants off. In only a handful of seconds, he was kneeling naked on Blaine's bed.

Blaine's eyes widened in shock and bafflement. "Kurt! What are you…"

"Stop pretending," Kurt practically spat at him, his eyes glaring at Blaine. "I'm not stupid and neither are you, so we both know what you meant with that kiss. You changed your mind about that non-sexual crap you said when we met."

He fished under a pillow, and then threw a bottle of lube and a condom onto the bed beside him.

"I haven't had time to prep myself, so unless you want to watch me, you're gonna have to do it yourself," Kurt muttered, his voice flat and his face emotionless. He turned until he was on his hands and knees, presenting himself for Blaine.

Blaine sucked in a breath. What the hell was even going on? How could Kurt think that…? Blaine felt like he was going to be sick. He didn't want this. Even if Kurt was incredibly beautiful and he was attracted to him… he didn't want this. Especially not like this.

"Kurt, I don't…" he murmured, stunned. He swallowed – his throat and mouth were suddenly terribly dry.

"Fine. You can watch, if you're into it, I guess…" Kurt leaned to get the lube and Blaine's eyes widened again in shock, gasping in dismay when he saw the thin white lines marking the otherwise flawless skin.

Scars. Those were scars. Someone had hurt Kurt; someone had damaged him – fucked him, _oh god_ – hard enough to tear his skin.

"Kurt, stop," Blaine pleaded, his voice jagged and broken and heart thumping painfully in his chest. "Please, please, just stop."

Kurt froze immediately. Blaine had to wonder if Kurt was used to following orders when he was like this – if he ever had to just lay there and do whatever the man paying him wanted him to.

Blaine wanted to throw up just thinking about it.

His hazel eyes travelled, inevitably, over Kurt's body, feeling a heart-wrenching pain scorching over him as the pale, cruel marks seemed to glow on Kurt's skin, between the globes of his ass. His protruding ribs and hipbones were sharp angles and undulating hills without enough flesh to cover them, the saddest image Blaine had ever seen. Blaine was aware he had lived a protected coddled life, raised in the warmth of a loving family, and that there were millions of cold heartless people out there, but he still couldn't understand how men would want to just use Kurt for pleasure. Did no one care? Did no one stop to try to help him? How could they use Kurt and break him even more than he already was?

His hands shaking, Blaine tugged one of the blankets from the bed and took a hesitant step towards Kurt, who was still balanced up in the same position. He gently wrapped the blanket around him, covering his frail body. He reminded Blaine of a house of cards next to an open window: the softest breeze would've brought him down.

Kurt turned his head, staring at him with a frown. "What are you doing?"

"I meant what I said," Blaine murmured, taking a step back again, giving Kurt the space he needed. "Yes, I'm paying for you to be here, but I would never use you like that, Kurt. Not like that. No matter how much money I give you, you'll never have to do that with me."

Very slowly, Kurt shifted to sit on the center of the bed, his eyes greyer than before and his frown deepened. His fingers closed tightly on the blanket, shielding his naked body. "I… but you kissed me."

Blaine swallowed nervously. "Yes. Yes, I did."

"Why?" Kurt asked, tilting his head to the side in bewilderment.

Blaine knew he had two alternatives. He could tell Kurt he'd done it without even thinking about it, or he could tell him the truth. He could tell Kurt that he was attracted to him and that he'd kissed him because kissing Kurt had felt more important than breathing.

"Because I like you," he said, with a little shrug. It sounded simple enough to him. That was a good, logical reason to kiss someone.

Not to Kurt, apparently. He stared at Blaine, looking absolutely lost. "I… I don't understand."

It hit Blaine that someone liking him was a completely foreign idea for Kurt. Men didn't _like_ him – they used him, abused him, fucked him until they were done and then walked away. Kurt was like a doll – they played with him until they got bored and found something new to entertain themselves with. They didn't play nice, either. They were rough and careless and by the time they were done with him, Kurt wasn't the same. Abused dolls lost plastic arms, eyes or hair, but Kurt lost something real. He lost a part of his heart every time he accepted a wad of cash that gave strangers the right to do whatever they wanted to him.

Blaine felt horror running through his veins like a cold, freezing deluge that left him trembling. His legs threatened to fail him. He was very close to breaking down and sobbing uncontrollably. The desolation and absolute hopelessness he could see in Kurt's eyes right now… it broke his heart, it drained him, it left him wondering how it was possible that life had turned its back like this on someone. He knew there were people whose lives weren't easy. But he'd never imagined Kurt was drowning in all the bad, cruel, nasty experiences the world had to offer. Someone who was so despondent, he couldn't even reach for a helping hand anymore.

"Kurt…" Blaine murmured, surprised at how hoarse his voice sounded. His throat felt tight and he could feel the tears building in his eyes.

Kurt swallowed with difficulty, and Blaine was sure he was choking back tears as well. His head snapped to the side, avoiding him once again. "It's okay. Don't… just don't say anything."

Blaine took a step towards the bed, desperate. He needed to make Kurt see; he needed to open his eyes and _see_. "Kurt, no, I…"

"Blaine, please," Kurt whispered, broken, and he looked smaller, huddled and closing in on himself in the blanket.

Blaine's gaze fell to the floor and he tightened his lips, forcing himself to do what Kurt asked for a change, even though leaving him suffering was the last thing he wanted. He nodded slowly.

Neither said another word. Blaine silently gathered his pajamas, then headed into the bathroom to change. Once there, behind the closed door, he splashed water on his face and stared into the mirror as he told himself to hold it together.

After all, it wasn't him who was broken into a million pieces.

When he went back to his bedroom, the lamp on the nightstand was off, Kurt had put his pajamas on again and was buried under the covers. Blaine knew he wasn't sleeping, but he allowed him to pretend.

At this point, he didn't know what else to do.

* * *

**Needless to say, this chapter was a painful one to write. I hope you enjoyed it, though! Please review and share your thoughts with me!**

**I'll be seeing you again next weekend! Have a great week!**

**Love,**

**L.-**


	9. Chapter 9

**Surprise! **

**I'm updating a little earlier this week because I won't be around tomorrow or Sunday and I didn't want to keep you waiting for an extra week. I hope you don't mind ;)**

**I'm completely in love with all of you and the amazing feedback I've been getting for the past chapters. You are fantastic and keep a smile on my face even on the hardest days. Thank you so much for the support, the love and the kind reviews!**

**Huge thanks to Wutif and Christine for being so wonderful. Love you girls!**

**I own nothing!**

* * *

On Thursday morning, Blaine woke up cold. He opened his eyes as he clutched the blankets tighter around him, and it only took a few seconds for him to realize that they had forgotten to close the window the previous night.

It was no big surprise they had forgotten something as mundane as that – the window had been the last thing on Blaine's mind when he went to sleep last night.

After shutting it carefully, he chanced a glance towards the bed. Kurt was completely hidden under the blankets, just a few strands of hair sticking out. Blaine stared at the little he could see of him for a moment, feeling as lost and desperate as he had felt the night before.

Guilt was weighing heavily on Blaine's heart. Maybe if he hadn't been such a coward and talked to Kurt right after the kiss; maybe if he hadn't kissed Kurt at all… maybe then Kurt wouldn't have spent the entire day worried that Blaine's intentions had changed.

Blaine ran a hand through his hair, exasperated. Gosh, he couldn't even begin to imagine how used Kurt probably felt. Was he constantly expecting people to take advantage of him? Did he walk down the street wondering if the next man who walked by would force him to do things he hated?

Blaine had barely seen the surface cracks, but he had seen enough to know that Kurt's wounds went much deeper than that. He had seen enough to be scared to find out what kind of demons Kurt hid under his façade.

Was it normal to want to wrap Kurt in his arms and never let him go? To want to shield him from a world that did nothing but hurt him? Was it normal to desperately wish he could figure out a way to help Kurt heal?

Blaine closed his eyes and sighed in frustration. He was doing the same thing with Kurt that he'd done with his ex-boyfriends: he wanted to take care of him and make sure he'd always have a reason to smile. Perhaps it was a bit more understandable to want to spoil Paul, Richard or Logan, but with Kurt… Kurt was walking away forever in just a few days, with an envelope full of cash, the only reason he'd followed Blaine to Westerville in the first place. It wasn't Blaine's responsibility to save him.

But if Blaine didn't help him, and Kurt didn't help himself, then what was going to happen to him?

Blaine didn't want to think of the possibilities, but he truly hoped the image of Kurt kneeling in front of his parents' grave wasn't a premonition.

* * *

Kurt was relieved, though not surprised to wake up in an empty room. He hadn't slept well again, even though he was used to feeling exhausted now. Nightmares usually haunted his sleep. They made him restless, chasing away pleasant childhood fantasies he'd had when his dreams were just one more adventure he got to enjoy after his mom tucked him into bed. He was used to being tormented in his dreams by those who touched him and discarded him – he was used to Karofsky's evil smirk haunting him every night, reminding him of that tragic afternoon when he pushed him down a road that would change his life forever.

Sometimes Kurt wasn't sure what he hated more, that he had allowed Karofsky to turn him into what he was now, or the fact that he'd never been brave or strong enough to put his life back on track.

Was there even a track to get back to now?

Kurt swallowed bitterly, clinging to the pillow. The faint scent on it was becoming familiar – a strange combination of detergent, raspberry and Blaine's aftershave. He couldn't decide if he found it comforting or not. In a way, it made him think of all the things he could've had if things had been different. But there was no point thinking about what could have been. This was his life, this was the path he'd been forced to walk and this was all he was ever going to be.

Just a prostitute. Just a pathetic, broken whore whose only purpose in life was to get on his knees and make others' fantasies come true just as every single one of his own dreams and fantasies were thrown away, stomped on, forgotten; shattered.

Sometimes he found himself struggling to remember what he'd once dreamed of, what he'd aspired to become, but it was getting harder and harder to remember every day.

_That's not entirely true_, a quiet voice in the back of his head said. _You've been remembering again since you got here._

Kurt scoffed at himself. Just because he was staying in a nice house, being treated well by some kind people didn't mean anything. This reprieve was ending in just a few more days.

He tried to ignore the pang in his chest. There was no point in wishing things could take a turn for the better. There was no point in nursing silly little hopes that would get crushed just as everything else had.

Blaine wasn't his knight in shining armor. It didn't matter that he provided a feeling of warmth and safety Kurt hadn't felt since his father died. It was all fictitious. It was part of the price he was paying. It was what he had to do to play his role in front of his family. It was all meant for Paul. Kurt was just a tawdry substitute.

The words Blaine had spoken the previous night came back to him in a hushed whisper that grew louder inside of him until they echoed in his head, against his chest, in his very soul.

_Because I like you._

Was there anything for Blaine to like about him? Was it the way he would so willingly bend over and let men do whatever they wanted? Was it his skin pulled tight against his ribs and hipbones?

Was it about the few moments when Kurt had let his guard down enough to melt into his arms as they sat in the living room with his family? Did it have to do with the few words spoken in a gentle tone instead of the usual biting remarks?

Kurt couldn't understand what Blaine liked about him. Men only liked his body and the things he would let them do with it. They liked that Kurt took whatever they gave him, because he just couldn't put up a fight anymore.

But he knew, he simply knew with absolute certainty, that none of those things had anything to do with why Blaine liked him.

Kurt thought about the hand-holding, the kisses on the cheek, the gentle arm around his waist. He thought about all the sweet, caring ways in which Blaine had touched him. He knew most of it was an act… but what about the kiss? That kiss had happened behind closed doors with no one there to see it but them. Why would Blaine pretend about that? And why didn't he take advantage of what Kurt had easily offered him the previous night, when no one else had ever said no?

God, it had been so long since anyone had given him a simple gesture of affection, and after getting a taste of it this week, he was craving for Blaine's to be genuine. At least one of them – the smallest caress, the quickest, most innocent kiss on the cheek, the slightest touch of his fingertips over his knuckles.

Was it so wrong to wish he could just give in and enjoy it while he could? He knew the risks. He knew them very well. Kurt wasn't that stupid – as soon as he walked back into his apartment on Sunday, everything would be gone and the tender little fantasy would snap and vanish like a balloon coming in contact with the sharp point of a needle. Was the heartache worth it for just a handful of loving gestures that, in the end, meant nothing?

But did they, in fact, mean nothing? At the end of Kurt's life, would he look back and regret not allowing himself to have this, as little and meaningless as it would probably be for Blaine? Would he ever find someone else willing to show him a bit of kindness, a bit of sweetness?

Kurt seriously doubted it.

A part of him was desperate with the need to give in and just allow himself to have this while he could; to let himself feel what it was like to be with someone without feeling used for a change. Blaine was gentle, considerate and sweet (he was a kindergarten teacher, for crying out loud). Would it be so wrong to let himself have this? It would hurt even more in the end, yes, like everything else did. But allowing someone to hold him, to take care of him… wouldn't that make the ache when it ended worthwhile? Even if going back to his lonely, messed-up life hurt worse than ever… wasn't it just cruel to have the chance and not take it?

Kurt buried his face on the pillow, the comforting scent of it filling his senses again, and wished, not for the first time, that things could be easier, at least once.

* * *

Standing by the kitchen window with his hands wrapped around a warm cup of tea, Blaine watched as his car pulled away from the driveway. Cooper had asked him if he could take his car for _a very important reason_. Blaine was pretty sure he was going out to find a girl to be his date to their parents' party. Cooper finding a beautiful girl who would say yes to him in a matter of seconds was typical. At the restaurant just the previous night the waitress had given them all free deserts after Cooper merely smiled at her brightly.

It was damned annoying and oddly endearing all at the same time. Blaine sighed and walked away from the window. The grey sky looked like it was going to rain soon.

His mother was at the boutique and his father was working. It was just him and Kurt in the big, silent house – just them and the rain ready to come crashing down.

It was poetic in a very confusing, tragic way.

He went into the living room. The television was on and the volume was low enough to provide Blaine some company without distracting him. He had no idea what was on –some mindless sitcom, or something. He didn't care what was on, as long as it drowned out his guilty conscience.

There was a large box on the coffee table. He'd kept it on his car until this morning and had only grabbed it because he needed something to do, something to keep his mind occupied and apart from the man still sleeping (or simply avoiding him) upstairs.

Every year after Spring break, Blaine prepared something to surprise his kids. He loved walking back into his classroom and giving them something to make them smile, to get them excited about going back to school. This time, he'd come up with the idea of making them sock puppets – he'd gathered eleven pairs of colorful socks and things to decorate them with. Maybe the kids would even want to have a puppet show, a nice project they could all work on together.

Blaine tried distracting himself while he organized the contents of the box on the coffee table, thinking of his kids, of their bright smiles and positive energy. One of the many reasons why he loved being a kindergarten teacher was that he loved that whatever else was happening in his life stopped being important for at least a few hours. As soon as he stepped into his classroom, Blaine didn't care about boyfriends dumping him or bills to pay. All he cared about was making the children in front of him smile, to help them grow and learn and turn into amazing little people.

Honestly, there wasn't anything else Blaine would have wanted to do with his life.

Unfortunately, his kids weren't there with him now, and distractions weren't easy to find. He sat on the floor, back against the couch and legs stretched under the coffee table, and cut some red yarn to make some hair for the first puppet.

There were three finished puppets lying in a row on the couch behind him when he heard soft steps coming down the stairs. His back tensed, but other than that, he showed no sign of acknowledging Kurt's presence. He wanted to let Kurt choose whether to join him or not.

The steps grew closer until finally he could feel him standing right behind him, the couch standing between them giving him enough distance to still feel safe. Blaine remained quiet. He glued a big black button to the sock he was working on and then reached for another to do the same.

Kurt cleared his throat quietly and when he spoke, his voice was wary. "What are you doing?"

"I'm making sock puppets for my kids," Blaine replied, forcing himself to sound calm and collected. The last thing Blaine wanted right now was to give Kurt any reason to be anxious.

"Oh," Kurt murmured, a bit uncertainly. "Uhm. How many do you need to make?"

"Twenty one," Blaine replied, holding the one he was working on a bit farther away to see if the button eyes were even. "If I don't mess any of them up, that is."

There was a short stretch of silence, only filled by the sound of Nayla's paws as she walked from her place near the window to the kitchen for some water. Blaine waited, not exactly sure what he was waiting for.

"Would you like some help?" Kurt asked, voice even softer than before and more hesitant than Blaine had ever heard him until now.

Blaine looked over his shoulder and sent a gentle smile his way. "Yeah, that'd be great, actually."

For a while, they worked side by side in silence. Kurt sat next to him on the floor, but not close enough to brush against each other as they moved. Blaine finished another puppet and laid it down carefully to let it dry. Kurt was still working on his first one, using black yarn for the hair and big green buttons for the eyes. Blaine couldn't help smiling as he watched him work out of the corner of his eye, carefully making a little bow for the hair with a bit of red yarn. He was so focused, silent, delicate as if he had the most precious thing in his hand instead of a silly sock for one of Blaine's students.

The air seemed charged with something Blaine couldn't exactly name. Was it tension? Was it fear? Or was it something else? Maybe Kurt was gathering his courage to tell Blaine he was leaving, that he was done playing a role for Blaine's family. Blaine was suddenly painfully aware of how empty the house was, how the silence enveloped them like a blanket; a thin blanket that provided no comfort for the winter; that just allowed the cold to seep under his clothes, his skin, and into his bones.

And then Kurt shifted. It was such a minute motion that Blaine thought he'd imagined it. It wasn't possible that Kurt had just moved imperceptibly closer, was it? Once again, he glanced at Kurt out of the corner of his eyes, and realized he was sitting a little straighter, alert, as if waiting for Blaine to do something. He was pale and so obviously weary that Blaine had to fight the urge to wrap his arms around him with all his strength. The last thing he wanted to do was to scare Kurt even more than he already had.

Kurt put his finished puppet down on the coffee table and let his hand linger there, long white fingers resting lightly at the wooden edge. Blaine's hand was close, sorting through the pile of colorful buttons to find the ones he'd use next. Kurt's hand twitched, just an imperceptible little movement that made it slide an inch closer, and Blaine realized then that Kurt was fighting an impulse to reach for him.

Blaine waited with bated breath. It was Kurt who had to do this, on his own. Blaine couldn't take this step for him.

But he had to make sure Kurt knew he wouldn't reject him. He dropped the buttons and turned his hand, palm facing up and fingers slightly curved upwards, waiting. He didn't say anything; didn't even look at Kurt again. Blaine needed to give him a chance to back out without making a big deal out of it.

A shiver went down Blaine's spine as Kurt shyly traced the side of his hand with a fingertip, soft and slow as if he was afraid he'd break something if he allowed himself to touch Blaine more than that. Blaine's body responded to him of its own accord immediately, and his hand pressed up against Kurt's, lacing their fingers together and holding tightly.

"Kurt..." he murmured, careful, scared, hopeful.

Before he could say anything else, Kurt closed the distance between them, using his free hand to fist Blaine's shirt. He let out a strangled breath, a half-choked sound that made it seem as if having to inhale and exhale was too hard for him. Suddenly his head dropped onto Blaine's shoulder, eyes closing firmly and lips parting enough to allow a tiny whimper to escape. It was then that Blaine realized he was witnessing the very moment when Kurt admitted defeat.

Kurt exhaled shakily, a warm, stuttering breath echoing against the skin of Blaine's neck. Blaine turned slightly, enough to be able to wrap an arm around Kurt and tug him closer. With his other hand, he took hold of both of Kurt's hands and pressed them against his chest, cradling them close to the beat of his heart.

"It's okay," Blaine reassured him, murmuring into his thick chestnut hair. He pressed a kiss to it, and then to his temple. _It's okay to touch me; it's okay to hold me, to let me hold you. It's okay to be scared but please, please don't be afraid of me..._

After a few more minutes of stiff tension, Kurt's body finally gave in, relaxing against him, melting in Blaine's arms as if too tired to keep resisting. He burrowed even deeper into the embrace and Blaine didn't say anything else, knowing how fragile this moment was and how quickly it could turn into disaster. His head was buzzing, thoughts tangling messily, but now was not the time to think. He was going to follow his instincts. If the way Kurt was clinging to him meant he _needed_ this, then Blaine would give it to him. He would hold him for as long and as tightly as he could.

Neither of them was sure how long they stayed like that. Time didn't seem to matter. Minutes could've bled into hours, or even days, and they still wouldn't have cared. But finally Kurt lifted his head, enough to be eye to eye with Blaine, and Blaine felt a pang going through him as he saw how tired and how completely broken Kurt looked.

There were no tears in his eyes. They were dry and empty; the usual intense blue in them had vanished into a pearly grey, sad and worn. Blaine gently caressed the dark marks under them with his thumb, wishing he could make them disappear.

Kurt swallowed nervously. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to..."

"It's okay," Blaine said again with a soft, reassuring smile.

"I'm just..." Kurt's gaze wandered around the room, lost and unfocused, before returning to Blaine's, defeated. "I feel so trapped."

"If you let me, I could help you break free..." Blaine muttered as he carefully brushed back a few strands of hair that had fallen across Kurt's forehead.

"I'm not sure there is a way for me to break free anymore," Kurt admitted in a low voice, looking down at their hands still joined against Blaine's chest. "It's been so long…"

"Of course there is, Kurt." Blaine caressed Kurt's knuckles with his thumb. "Every lock has a key. You just need to find the one that fits."

"I'm afraid I may have thrown the key away a long time ago," Kurt shook his head, once again looking defeated. "I don't have any hopes or dreams left."

"Then you can borrow mine," Blaine's hazel eyes bore into his, so sincere and intense that Kurt couldn't look away. "I have enough for the both of us."

Kurt didn't seem to know how to reply to that, so he simply sighed and dropped his head back onto Blaine's shoulder, allowing himself to be held once again.

* * *

They had to move, eventually, when their limbs started falling asleep from sitting in the same position for so long. Kurt stood first, his arms going around himself defensively, staring at the floor, not sure what to do. Blaine glanced at the line of finished puppets as he tried to decide what to do next.

"We could go out for a walk," he proposed, at a loss for anything else. "I think we both need some fresh air."

Kurt looked at him for a second or two and then nodded.

They left the house quickly, as if staying inside was suffocating them, the walls closing around them until they couldn't breathe. Only when they had walked silently down a few streets did they realize neither had remembered to grab a coat. The wind seemed colder than it had been lately and the sky was still grey and gloomy. Blaine took a deep breath and the smell of imminent rain filled his nostrils.

Kurt's face was serious as he walked next to him. His arms were still wrapped around himself, but more to protect him from the cold than to protect them from Blaine. He was tragically beautiful, Blaine thought. He'd never imagined sadness and heartbreak could ever look so beautiful, but Kurt was surprising him in many ways. It made him wish he could see Kurt happy. If he looked so stunning when he was sad, then seeing him jubilant would be such an amazing sight to behold.

They made their way to the playground where Blaine had spent many afternoons as a child. Cooper used to take him there on Saturday mornings, and they would catch or challenge each other to see who could hang upside down on the monkey bars the longest. Blaine smiled as he remembered how Cooper had always let him win.

The playground was completely deserted now. Kurt walked towards the swings and sat on one, pushing himself back and forward slightly with his feet. Blaine watched him for a moment and was able to see the ghost of a boy who'd had to grow up too soon, forced to face a world that had been nothing but dark and painful for him. So much grief, so much hurt... Blaine wasn't sure if he'd ever hear Kurt's story from the man himself, but he could read so much between the lines already. All those scars, all those bruises that would never heal, all the tears that Kurt had cried... How could one person go through so much pain and not give up? Blaine couldn't blame him. He would've given up, too.

He joined Kurt at the swings, taking the one next to his. The sky grew even darken, but neither noticed, lost in their own heads.

"It was a really nice kiss," Kurt said abruptly, eyes fixed on his feet. Blaine turned to him, a little surprised. "Even if I was... and I couldn't... it was still the nicest kiss."

The nicest kiss among so many others, unwanted, forced, paid for. Blaine's stomach churned.

"I'm sorry it scared you," Blaine said regretfully.

"Everything scares me," Kurt shrugged as if it didn't matter, but the exhausted tone of his voice told a different story.

"Do I scare you?" Blaine asked, tightening his grip around the swing's chain, feeling it dig into his palm.

Kurt looked at him then, eyes roaming over his face for a long moment in which Blaine held his breath, afraid he wouldn't pass whatever test Kurt was putting him through.

"A little," Kurt answered at last, and Blaine deflated. "But for good reasons."

Good reasons? Blaine's eyes widened. Yes, even the good things in life were scary sometimes, especially when we don't want them to end or when we don't want to lose them. Love was scary in the best possible way, Blaine thought, shivering as he connected the idea of falling in love and Kurt.

It was too soon. It was too complicated.

But it could be so worth it...

There was a clap of thunder that made the ground vibrate under their feet. They both looked up at the sky to see the first drops of rain down on them, starting slowly, but soon gaining strength and turning into a proper storm.

"Come on, let's go!" Blaine said, jumping off his swing. He put his hand out as a silent offer for Kurt, who only hesitated for a second before accepting it.

They pulled each other down the street, rushing back to Blaine's parents' house, splashing through puddles, completely soaked in minutes. It took a while for Blaine to hear, since it got lost in the loud storm enveloping them, but then he did: it was Kurt and he was laughing. He stared at him, shocked and amazed, skipping along his side. For a moment, he looked so _free_ and so _carefree_ that Blaine wanted to stop and kiss him right there. But he refrained; afraid that would break whatever spell Kurt was under.

There were still no cars in the driveway when they ran up to the front door, which meant no one had returned yet. Blaine quickly ushered Kurt inside the door, closing it behind them as Kurt's laughter died down into a chuckle. Blaine turned to look at him then, soaking wet and feeling his clothes hanging heavily on him, and found Kurt standing there just as wet and disheveled. He was surprised to hear his teeth were chattering, trembling with cold. But, of course, Kurt was skinnier and his clothes weren't as warm and thick as Blaine's.

Blaine intertwined their fingers together again. "Come with me," he said with a warm smile.

Kurt followed him up the stairs without a word. Neither cared about the trail of water they were leaving in their wake. The most important thing was the cold grip of Kurt's hand in his.

"What are you doing?" Kurt asked as Blaine guided him into the bathroom adjacent to his bedroom. Once there, Blaine let go of his hand and turned to the bathtub, opening the faucets to fill it. "Blaine?"

"I'm taking care of you, silly," Blaine replied simply, smiling at him over his shoulder. "You're half frozen and I don't want you to catch a chill."

Kurt's breath hitched and his heart stuttered in his chest, but Blaine didn't seem to notice, busy pouring caramel-scented bubble bath into the water.

Kurt marveled at how easy this was. No one had done this for him before and he found that allowing Blaine to do it wasn't hard at all. It felt good, having someone who cared if he was cold, hungry or tired, or simply having someone who offered to hold him without expecting anything in return.

Kurt couldn't remember the last time he had felt as alive as he did while running in the rain, hand in hand with Blaine.

"Here are some towels," Blaine said, snapping Kurt out of his daze. "Take as much time as you need. I'll go take a shower in Cooper's bathroom."

"Okay. Thank you," Kurt murmured, his voice thick with emotion. It had been such a long time, he'd forgotten what it was like to feel safe and cared for...

Blaine smiled at him once more, then left the bathroom. Kurt peeled his cold wet clothes off, the warm tub water immediately soothing his frozen limbs. And as he lay there, surrounded by the sweet scent of caramel, he realized he didn't want to run anymore. He never wanted to go back to being passed from stranger to stranger for a bit of cash.

For the first time in forever, Kurt realized he might finally have a reason to stay.

* * *

**So there it is! What did you guys think about it?**

**I'll do my best have chapter 10 ready for next weekend. It's a long one, so I need to find time to edit it. Please be patient! I'll be back as soon as I possibly can!**

**Thanks for reading x**

**L.-**


	10. Chapter 10

**Hey everyone!**  
**I hope you all had a nice week and an even better weekend so far. How did you like the first episode of Glee in NY? I thought it was absolutely fantastic and I can't wait to see more.**

**Thank you so much for all the lovely reviews. I'm so happy you liked chapter 9!**

**Once more, I have to thank Wutif and Christine for being the best, most patient betas in the world. Love them to pieces.**

**I own nothing!**

* * *

Blaine was making tea in the kitchen when Kurt came downstairs, wearing loose jeans and a hoodie that made him look like a teenager. Blaine wished he could run his fingers through his unstyled chestnut hair, push it off his forehead and drop a kiss right there. His cheeks were slightly tinged with pink, probably from the warm water, and he looked a lot more relaxed, though there were still vestiges of wariness visible if you looked close enough.

"Hey," Kurt mumbled walking towards him.

Blaine smiled sweetly. "Hey. I just made tea," he said as he took the teabags out of the teapot, before he set it on a tray with a couple of cups. "Would you like some?"

"Sure," Kurt replied, sounding uncertain.

"Let's go to the living room," Blaine exited the kitchen with the tray and Kurt followed. "I just talked to mom on the phone. I offered to help with some party stuff when she comes home." He sat on the couch and offered the first cup to Kurt, who accepted it with a little smile. "If you're too tired, don't feel like you have to help. Cooper and I will be fine on our own."

"It's okay, I want to help," Kurt said, sipping his tea carefully. "What sort of stuff does she need help with?"

"No idea, but I'm sure she'll enlighten us as soon as she comes in the door," Blaine sat back comfortably, unable to take his eyes off Kurt. He was beautiful and Blaine was dying to kiss him, but wasn't sure if Kurt would want him to. "Was your bath okay?"

"Heavenly," Kurt answered with a grateful smile. "Thank you."

"No need to thank me," Blaine shrugged. "It was nothing."

Kurt looked at him, those intense blue eyes fixed on him, as if he was trying to find a way to say something without words. Blaine was about to ask if he wanted to talk when they heard the front door, and a few seconds later, Cooper entered the living room with a dazzling smile.

"Boys! Ask me where I was!" He said, with the enthusiasm of a child who just returned from a trip to the zoo.

Blaine dropped his head onto the back of the couch, groaning in annoyance.

Kurt, however, decided to indulge him, trying hard to bite back a smile. "Where were you today, Cooper?"

"I went to the mall, to get a new tie for the party," Cooper sat on the couch, wedging himself the two of them, with a determined wiggle. "You know, one that would really accentuate my eyes and set off my defined, sexy jaw…" Blaine snorted next to him, but Cooper ignored him. "There was an adorable girl at the shop who kept watching me while I was trying them on in front of the mirror, but I thought nothing of it, because it's quite common for women to just stare at me, you know. I can't help I'm so handsome," Cooper said apologetically to Kurt, as if he felt bad that his brother's boyfriend couldn't be as attractive as him. "Anyway, I was trying on this fantastic blue tie that made my eyes pop like they were two huge, blinding sapphires…"

"Oh my god, I can't listen to this…" Blaine buried his face against the couch and covered his head with a pillow.

"…when she approached me, all cute and bashful…" Cooper paused for dramatic effect. "And she asked if I was the guy from the credit commercials! Did you hear that, Blaine?" Cooper whacked his brother's pillow for effect. "Your brother is a celebrity in Ohio, now, too!"

Kurt laughed, covering his mouth with his hand to hide it. Blaine refused to even acknowledge his brother, even when Cooper started poking him in his side to make him come out from under the pillow and face him.

"_Paul_," Cooper whined, pouting. "Your boyfriend's an idiot who won't admit how remarkable I am!"

"Don't worry, Cooper, I'm sure Blaine is very proud of you," Kurt assured him, trying – and failing – to remain completely serious. He nudged Blaine's foot with his. "Aren't you, Blaine?"

"No," Blaine muttered, voice muffled by the pillow. It looked like he was trying to suffocate himself with it.

"It's fine, I get it," Cooper said airily, shrugging elegantly. "Blaine's just jealous because by this time next year I'll be on the cover of People Magazine, frolicking shirtless on a beach and women and gay men will be swooning nonstop over the most attractive man in North America."

"Ugh, Cooper. You're _not _the most attractive man in the country," Blaine sat up just enough to push his brother away. "If your ego keeps growing at this rate, you won't fit into the house anymore!"

"He's jealous, I'm telling you," Cooper murmured to Kurt, in a stage undertone. "He's always been jealous, because I'm taller and so much more handsome."

"I'm this close to punching you," Blaine glared at him, sounding more annoyed.

"Don't worry, Blaine. You're cute, in a garden-gnome kind of way," Cooper said condescendingly, patting Blaine's head. Blaine swatted his hand away. "I'm sure Paul would love to carry you around in his pocket."

Kurt rolled his eyes. "Don't be ridiculous! He's not _that_ short."

"Why do we always end up talking about you?" Blaine groaned, head lolling back against the couch again. "You're so annoying."

"Yeah, I'm personally more interested in seeing the tie you bought. What shade of blue is it?" Kurt asked, looking around in search of any shopping bags Cooper might have carried into the living room with him.

"Again, with the jealousy! I can understand that you want to be more like me. I'm a very talented actor with an exciting career and dating life," Cooper grinned, looking prepared to pose for a magazine. "Did you know Blaine wanted to be a performer too, Paul? He was more inclined towards musical theatre, but he still wanted to be an actor just like me."

"_Not _just like you," Blaine corrected, irritated. "I just liked performing on a stage."

"I didn't know that," Kurt said, eyebrows raised in surprise as he looked at Blaine.

"Yeah. I loved theatre and Glee club when I was in high school. I thought about pursuing entertainment for a living, but in the end I realized it was more like a hobby," Blaine shrugged. "I like what I do now a lot better."

"I wanted to join Glee club when I was in high school, too," Kurt commented, still looking at Blaine with interest. "But the club didn't get much support from the school and there were only five people who signed up, so it fizzled out after about a week. We would've never made it to any competitions anyway…"

"I didn't know you could sing," Blaine said, sounding equally surprised, but he should have guessed. Kurt's speaking voice was so melodious, so it was only logical that he had a nice singing voice, too.

"Oh," Kurt's eyes widened for a moment, as if realizing he'd said more than he intended to. "Yeah, I can sing."

Blaine wanted to say that he'd love to hear him sing someday, but he wasn't sure how Kurt would react. There was something sad in Kurt's eyes, evoked as soon as he mentioned high school, and Blaine didn't want to linger on a topic that upset him, especially not in front of Cooper.

"I have to say, I was a little disappointed when you became a kindergarten teacher," Cooper admitted, giving both Kurt and Blaine a chance to avoid what they didn't want to talk about. "I always thought we could've formed a really awesome Duran Duran tribute band and tour around the country."

"I'm pretty sure we would've killed each other one week into the tour," Blaine chuckled, rolling his eyes.

"Oh, I don't know. You haven't killed any of those little ankle-biters who stain your clothes with snot and finger paint," Cooper watched him, as if he seriously expected Blaine to suddenly drop his career and join his brother to make his dreams come true.

"Hey, don't talk about my kids like that. They're really great," Blaine said, pointing a finger at Cooper severely. "There's nothing more rewarding than working with children. I'm helping to shape a little human being."

"I think it's a little creepy, how you call them _your_ kids and you make weird sock puppets to represent them…" Cooper studied him with an eyebrow perfectly arched.

"You're impossible," Blaine huffed.

"I think teaching children is a wonderful fit," Kurt interrupted softly, making the other two turn to look at him. "Blaine's the sweetest guy I've ever met; of course he's a kindergarten teacher."

Blaine's heart thumped loudly in his chest, and he felt a delighted smile appear on his face. "You think I'm sweet?"

Kurt smiled back at him, and nodded almost timidly.

Cooper snorted mockingly. "Jesus. You two are actually the worst lovebirds. It's like watching two middle school kids with their first crush."

Blaine punched his brother in the arm, but didn't say anything. He was too busy admiring the beautiful rosy glow in Kurt's usually pale cheeks.

* * *

Grace returned a few minutes later and instantly recruited Kurt to help her with some last minute decorations, saying she could really use his good taste. Kurt blushed slightly, but Blaine could see how please he was that Grace wanted his opinion, but also seemed to enjoy his company a lot.

Blaine and Cooper were charged with going to the local winery in Westerville to pick up the cases of wine and champagne Henry had ordered for the party. If there was one thing the Andersons were kind of snobby about, it was their wine. They knew what they liked, and they hadn't allowed the catering company to supply any beverages. So Blaine drove them along the wet, slippery streets, all the while arguing with Cooper, who wouldn't settle on a damn radio station.

In the end, Cooper decided to turn it off and turned to look at his brother.

"If you're going to insist on…" Blaine began saying, rolling his eyes.

"Nope, I have something else I want to talk about now," Cooper muttered. He was staring at him with a smirk.

"Then, what?" Blaine asked, confused.

"You and Paul," Cooper started, pausing to choose his words. "You really do love him, don't you?"

Blaine blinked, not knowing what to say.

It felt weird hearing his brother talking about Paul, a guy who hardly even registered anymore, instead of talking about Kurt, who was suddenly so much more real. It upset him, being unable to use Kurt's real name, as if it were some sort of terrible betrayal. Kurt deserved better than being considered a stand-in.

The problem was, Blaine didn't think it was a stand-in anymore, and he wasn't sure how he would ever begin to explain the whole story – the _true_ story – to his family. Because he knew that, at some point, he would need to come clean and tell them the truth, because he was hoping to keep Kurt in his life even after the weekend came to an end.

"Yeah, I think I might," Blaine whispered, choosing his words carefully. "With him… I don't know. I've never felt like I do with him. And I'm not belittling my other relationships; I think I was truly in love with my ex-boyfriends too, but I… there's something different… special about him. I can't explain it. But when he smiles… it's like everything is _right_ with the world."

"Aww, B. Aren't you sweet," Cooper mumbled, pressing his hands against his chest.

Blaine rolled his eyes again. He really was spending too much time with Kurt. "Why'd you even ask if you're going to mock me?"

"I'm not mocking you," Cooper shifted in his seat, getting comfortable. "I just wasn't expecting you to be so… honest, open. But I'm happy for you, little brother. You deserve someone who's gonna make you happy, and I think Paul is doing a wonderful job of that."

Blaine smiled, forcing himself not to cringe at the name. It wasn't Cooper's fault that he had gotten them into this stupid situation. It was his own for not coming clean, unwilling to admit to his family that he'd been dumped again. But, if he'd done that, Kurt wouldn't even be in the picture now, so maybe it hadn't been such a bad idea, after all.

"So, are you going to ask him to marry you any time soon?"

Blaine almost crashed the car, Cooper's question had so completely shocked him. "_What_?"

"Oh, I know Dad has been meaning to give you Nana's ring," Cooper shrugged. "I think they've given up on ever getting grandchildren from me."

"I… grandchildren…" Blaine felt a little dizzy. Yes, his father had mentioned the engagement ring a couple of times. He knew his parents were hoping for him to find a man and start a family. Grace had said more than once that she wanted grandchildren while she was still young enough to enjoy them. But how had the previously faceless image of his fiancé and husband gained Kurt's features? It was ridiculous. It was too soon and stupid, and if Kurt had even the slightest idea about what Blaine was fantasizing about, he would run for cover as quickly as he could.

"I want to help you with the proposal. It should be awe-inspiring and perfectly romantic. You're lucky you have me here to help you write a speech. I'm _great _with speeches. I had to audition for a role in a play, where the main character proposes to his long-time girlfriend and I was so good in it, I swear, everyone cried. That's how good it was, Blaine."

"I'm sure it was, Coop," Blaine mumbled, not exactly paying attention.

"Here, listen to this and weep, B."

Cooper began reciting the proposal from the play but Blaine tuned him out. He wanted to get married as much as his parents wanted him to. But as he became older, he realized marriage wasn't as simple as he had thought it was when he was a teenager. Love at first sight was just an illusion, created by Disney movies and Broadway shows. Blaine had been terribly disappointed, when he finally realized he would never be wooed by a white knight. He would never find a man who would take his breath away, who he would feel an instant connection to; a man who would love him passionately, ready to run into the sunset with him at the blink of an eye.

Fairy tales were just that, fairy tales. But Blaine still strongly believed in the power of love. He had put all his faith in love and he was positive it would happen for him eventually. He just wished it wasn't so complicated sometimes.

* * *

They were busy all day, and the most they could share were longing glances and soft touches here and there. Grace had monopolized Kurt, and Blaine and Cooper were mostly stuck following orders from them for the rest of the afternoon.

Every now and then, when Grace stepped aside to take a phone call, Kurt and Blaine would stand close together, hands bumping together, fingers shyly tracing the other's knuckles as if asking for permission. There weren't any kisses – frankly Blaine felt too nervous to try it. He would have to get over it, because he was sure Kurt would never take the first step. But even without kissing Kurt's perfect pink lips, he was okay. Just standing by his side was enough to make him happy for now.

Cooper had somehow managed to drop a whole box full of table centerpieces on his foot and was whining that if he couldn't ever walk again it would cost him his career. Blaine left him complaining and made his way to Kurt, who was double checking the number of plates for the buffet.

"Exactly how many people are coming to this party?" Kurt asked distractedly as he wrote down the final count on a list Grace had given him.

"I don't know for sure. My parents have lots of friends, so… maybe fifty?" Blaine replied thoughtfully, though he couldn't care less. Right now, Kurt's profile was a lot more enticing than rearranging place cards at the chairs. Some hair had fallen on his forehead and his eyes were a particularly bright green in that moment. Blaine reached to gently brush back the hair, allowing his hand to linger for a bit, trailing his fingertips down the contour of Kurt's face. "I'm really sorry that my mom has decided to make you her personal slave today."

"I don't mind," Kurt shrugged. He smile slightly and his head tilted, leaning into Blaine's touch. "She's fantastic. You're lucky to have her."

The way he said it saddened Blaine, but he managed to hide it. He wasn't supposed to know about Kurt losing his parents, and once again he felt guilty for having broken Kurt's trust like that.

"Aren't you getting tired?" Blaine asked, wanting to change the course of the conversation. "I can ask my mom to leave you alone for a while and we can go watch a movie or something."

"No, no, I'm fine," Kurt smiled reassuringly. "Don't worry about me."

"Okay," Blaine nodded and let his hand fall, instantly missing the softness of Kurt's skin against his fingertips. "Uhm. I was thinking… if you want…"

When Blaine didn't seem to be able to find the right words, Kurt looked at him curiously and tilted his head. "Yes?"

"I was wondering if you'd like to go out for a drink or something tonight," Blaine muttered, hoping he wasn't blushing as much as he thought he was. "Just the two of us. I'd like to spend some time with you without my family constantly interrupting. Would that be okay?"

There was a good chance Kurt would say no. He could be tired, or maybe he didn't want to spend any more time with Blaine than necessary. There was a chance that Blaine had read everything wrong and he was making a big mistake. But he had to ask, because he really, _really_ wanted this.

Kurt smiled a little brighter and clasped his hands together in front of him. "I'd love to."

Blaine's answering smile must have been incredibly wide and happy, because Cooper forgot for a moment about complaining that all this labor meant for untalented, unattractive men was going to ruin him forever, and wolf-whistled from across the room.

"Don't pay any attention to him," Blaine said quickly, before his brother could say something embarrassing. "He's an idiot."

Grace called Kurt then, inquiring about the plates. Kurt hesitated for a second, but then leaned towards Blaine and kissed his cheek quickly. His own cheeks were bright red when he pulled away, and he muttered softly: "I guess I'll see you tonight, then."

Blaine smiled for the rest of the day, even though Cooper wouldn't stop teasing him about it.

* * *

Kurt stood in front of the mirror and stared at himself appraisingly. He straightened the shirt he was wearing – a vivid purple one he'd always adored but was getting a bit worn – and a pair of equally worn white jeans. He couldn't remember the last time he'd gone shopping. The pants had been flatteringly snug on him when he had bought them years ago, but now they seemed loose in some places, though they still hugged his thighs quite nicely.

He was a little apprehensive – he hadn't had a reason to dress up or want to look nice in so long. It was strange looking in the mirror, hoping to be pleased with what he was seeing. He remembered a time when he would spend hours and hours planning his outfits and browsing the internet for designer clothes that he could afford. Now, he didn't feel any pleasure in dressing himself, after so long throwing clothes on to cover the jutting bones and angry marks of cruel or careless customers.

Kurt did the best with what he had, though. All his clothes were well-cared for and clean, to make up for how old they were. He glanced at his reflection once again and thought there was something missing. He wished he had a nice scarf – maybe one in a shade of blue or green, or one with a nice pattern in several colors. He used to have several beautiful designer scarves, but he had had to sell them in a consignment store. Instead, he left the two top buttons open and made sure his hair was impeccable.

It was sort of thrilling, having someone to look nice for, someone who made him want to dress nicely. It had been so, so long…

There was a quick knock on the bedroom door and Kurt looked over his shoulder just as Blaine peeked in carefully.

"Kurt? Can I come in?"

"Yes, sure, come in," Kurt said, as a little smile made its way onto his lips, and warmth down his spine. It was weird, the way he couldn't help but smile around Blaine.

Blaine stepped into the room and immediately smiled as well. "You look great. That color looks amazing on you."

Kurt looked down at his shoes and bit his bottom lip. "Thank you." He raised his eyes and glanced at Blaine, taking in the beautiful red shirt and slim black pants he was wearing. He'd worn a bowtie with an exquisite pattern in red and navy that made him look young and adorable. The way the shirt hugged his frame, though, made his shoulders look broad compared to his narrow waist, and so incredibly attractive that Kurt couldn't help staring for a moment.

He felt a little prickle going down his spine, something he hadn't felt since he was a teenager, long before his father died and he still had an interest in boys. It was raw attraction in its purest state. It relieved Kurt enormously that he was still able to feel that. He hadn't been attracted to anyone in years. The men that had crossed his path only disgusted him. But Blaine… Blaine was different.

He was caring, gentle and selfless. Kurt hadn't believed men like him still existed. He thought that specie had become extinct with the death of his father.

"You look great, too. I love your bowtie," Kurt said, pointing at it, awkwardly. He was extremely out of practice when it came to these things…

"Thanks. My mom made it for my last birthday. She's given me one each year since I was a thirteen," Blaine said, touching the carefully placed bowtie with reverent fingers. "I've always loved them."

"Not everyone can pull it off, but you make them work," Kurt answered honestly and the delighted grin Blaine sent his way made something inside of him melt.

"Are you ready to go?" Blaine asked, gesturing towards the door.

"Yeah, I…" Kurt turned, briefly eyeing himself critically in the mirror. Blaine looked so nice, his clothes clearly new and expensive. Kurt felt that, despite the compliment Blaine had paid him, he looked ridiculously outclassed next to him.

A pair of hands settled on his hips lightly, and Blaine's face appeared next to his shoulder in the mirror. He seemed hesitant, as if he wasn't sure if touching Kurt was allowed or not, but his smile was as warm as usual. "Whatever is worrying you… forget it. You are beautiful, Kurt."

Kurt watched as his cheeks colored in bashfulness, but basked in how good this moment felt. He didn't think he was beautiful, but if Blaine said so, he could pretend to be. At least for tonight.

"Now come on," Blaine grabbed his hand and tugged on it gently. "Let's go."

Kurt followed him out of the room and down the stairs without another glance at the mirror. The weight of Blaine's hand in his was distracting, and he intertwined their fingers together, loving how amazingly well they fit.

"You guys going out?" Cooper asked as he walked towards the kitchen.

"Yeah. We should be back in a few hours," Blaine answered, grabbing his car keys from the bowl on the table by the front door.

"Have fun!" Cooper exclaimed and threw them a wink just before they closed the door behind them.

"I'm losing hope that Cooper will ever grow up one day," Blaine said, rolling his eyes as they walked towards his car. "I'm sorry about him."

"Don't be. He's not that bad," Kurt shrugged as he climbed onto the passenger seat. "He's just… you know, a little bit egocentric."

"A little bit? Kurt, he thinks the solar system rotates around him," Blaine murmured with a chuckle.

"Yes, but he is a good guy, and that counts for a lot, even if he can't get his head out of his own ass for ten minutes," Kurt replied as Blaine turned the engine on and pulled away from the driveway.

"Aw, you're warming up to him," Blaine cooed, teasingly. "I thought you hated him."

"He's not the only one I'm warming up to," Kurt muttered under his breath.

Blaine's face softened into a loving smile and reached for Kurt's hand, giving it a quick squeeze.

Kurt had the feeling that it was going to be an amazing night.

* * *

The bar Blaine took him to was in downtown Westerville, and he assured Kurt that it was a pretty accepting place; he'd seen same sex couples there a few times before, when he'd had a drink with Cooper. Kurt relaxed, glad he didn't have to be constantly looking over his shoulder tonight and waiting for something terrible to happen. He owed himself a good time; he hadn't had fun in so many years…

Blaine guided him to the bar with a hand on the small of his back so they wouldn't get separated in the crowd. It was a full house and there was music playing loudly, a lot of people dancing to some pop song Kurt didn't recognize. They found two empty stools side by side and got comfortable, people watching for a bit while they waited for the bartender to get to them.

"What would you like to drink?" Blaine had to lean over and talk into his ear so Kurt would understand his question.

"Uhm, I'm not sure! I'm not much of a drinker. What would you recommend?" Kurt asked, his eyes wandering behind the bar, to the bottles lined up against the opposite wall.

"Rum and Coke? You can never go wrong with that!" Blaine suggested.

Once they both had their drinks, they spotted a recently vacated table by the end of the bar, so they hurried to get it before someone else took it. It was a little farther away from the speakers, so they could still listen to the music playing without it drowning out their conversation. Blaine shifted his chair a little closer to Kurt's, which made Kurt smile into his drink.

When Blaine put his own glass down on the table after taking a sip from it, his hand fell close to Kurt's, fingers brushing against the other's unconsciously. However, he didn't pull away when he felt the whisper of Kurt's skin on his.

Kurt stared down at their fingers. Blaine's were a little thicker and slightly shorter than his. The back of his hand was dusted with very thin, dark hair. They looked like strong hands, and Kurt liked that about him. Those hands made him feel as if, when they were within reach, Kurt was safe. It was so incredibly unfamiliar to feel safe.

"Okay, so I have a question…" Blaine said, leaning on his elbows to get closer, voice barely audible over the music, his eyes intensely fixed on Kurt's. Kurt couldn't help but stiffen for a moment, not sure what he was going to say. "What's your favorite song?"

Kurt blinked, slightly confused. "I… what?" That wasn't what he had been expecting at all.

"I know there's a jukebox in this place, so I want to find the one song you can't resist dancing to so you'll dance with me. So, what's your favorite song?" There was a playful twinkle in Blaine's hazel eyes that made Kurt relax immediately.

"I'm not much of a dancer," Kurt muttered, shrugging in apology.

"Somehow, I don't really believe that," Blaine said thoughtfully. "So. Favorite song?"

Kurt leaned back in his seat and sipped at his drink, his eyes fixed somewhere behind Blaine. "Uhm…" He thought for a moment. "I… couldn't tell you right now. I haven't paid much attention to music in a very long time. But I've always loved anything by the Beatles and Broadway musicals."

"Well, who doesn't love the Beatles? That's just anyone's standard reply!" Blaine chuckled. "But I love Broadway, too. What's your favorite musical?"

They spent nearly an hour gushing about Wicked, Chicago and Les Mis, mouthing the lyrics to their favorite songs together and lamenting the fact that neither had gotten the chance to see a live Broadway show so far. Blaine had seen a local production of Rent when he was still in high school and loved every minute of it, but he imagined the real Broadway experience had to be a million times better.

"So, was what Cooper said true?" Kurt asked when the conversation paused for a moment and Blaine send the waitress a gesture to ask for a refill. "About you and performing, I mean. Did you really want to be on stage?"

"Yeah, I loved singing and dancing and I think I was a pretty decent actor," Blaine explained, drawing random figures on the wet circle left behind by the condensation of his glass. "I was accepted by several colleges for performing programs when I graduated high school, but in the end, I decided against it."

"Why?" Kurt put his elbow on the table and rested his cheek on his hand, looking at Blaine with interest.

"I think I got scared into playing it safe," Blaine confessed, scrunching his nose adorably. "It was a very competitive atmosphere and I didn't have enough confidence in myself right then. I applied to other programs to have a back-up plan and, when the time came, I just decided to go to the school that offered a good education program. It seemed like a good idea, and I'm glad now that I chose the route I did."

"So you don't regret not performing in the least?" Kurt wanted to know every detail, every little thing, wanted to absorb every single word Blaine said.

"Nope," Blaine smiled. "I love my job, I love my kids and I don't think I could be doing anything better than this. I still love singing and dancing and I'd never pass up an opportunity to perform, but I'd rather do it for my kids in class."

Kurt grinned at that. "Do you dress as a clown and sing silly songs to them?"

Blaine blushed slightly and rolled his eyes. "As a matter of fact, yes. Yes, I do."

Kurt chuckled. "Well, don't worry. I'm sure you'd make the cutest clown. And they must love you too, because you're willing to do ridiculous things to make them happy."

Blaine's gaze lit up as he looked at Kurt. There was something soft and warm in them as he watched him, corners of his mouth curving up gently.

Kurt started squirming, checking his face and hair. "I… why are you looking at me like that? Is there something on my face?"

Blaine shook his head slowly. "No. I'm just… Kurt, you surprise me. You shock me."

Kurt frowned, unsure. "Uhm. Is that a bad thing?"

"It's a wonderful thing," Blaine took his hand and squeezed it, and Kurt felt immediately better with the contact. "I've never met anyone like you."

Kurt arched an eyebrow. There was a bitter taste in his mouth suddenly. "You mean… a prost–…?"

"No," Blaine cut him off instantly. He leaned closer to him and cupped his cheek to make him look into his earnest hazel eyes. His voice was low, comforting, like a cup of hot cocoa on a cold night. "Someone I'm never sure what he is going to say next, someone who constantly keeps me on my toes. Someone who isn't afraid to be honest and tell me when I screwed up or how stupid I am, but at the same time knows when to tell me I'm doing something right. Someone who, when we first met, claimed he hated everyone and everything, but I don't think that's true, because obviously you understand what it is like to do something you love and what that makes you feel like…"

Blaine was suddenly interrupted when a pair of lips pressed against his. He was shocked into silence, but kissed him back almost as soon as his brain processed that this was Kurt _kissing him_.

The kiss was gentle, soft and fleeting and ended in just mere seconds, when Kurt pulled away. His cheeks were slightly pink and he was biting his bottom lip, not sure if what he'd done had been okay or not.

"I… you didn't let me finish," Blaine murmured, looking a bit dazed and out of breath, even despite how quick the kiss had been.

"I think you've said enough," Kurt ducked his head. Maybe to somebody else, what Blaine had said hadn't been the greatest of compliments, but to Kurt… it had been years since someone had sincerely complimented _him_, instead of merely what he did for them. But Blaine…

"But I really wanted to finish telling you more," Blaine pouted and it was the single most adorable thing Kurt had ever seen. "Especially how breathtakingly beautiful I think you are. Inside and out."

Kurt's fingers tightened around Blaine's on their own accord. He didn't think he was beautiful, not at all. A doll that has been used and torn apart by careless children isn't beautiful, like the stunningly perfect porcelain dolls collected by someone who treats them as if they were the most precious thing on earth. Maybe Kurt had been beautiful, at some point long ago, when he was still innocent and happy, but not now.

Blaine cupped his cheek again and looked into his eyes. "You _are_," he insisted, as if he knew what Kurt was thinking.

Kurt dropped his eyes down to their joined hands, their fingers laced together as if it was the most natural thing in the world. Blaine held them as if he didn't want Kurt to fall and break even more. As if he was ready to catch him if he did.

When he looked back up, he was smiling and Blaine smiled in response. That was the most beautiful thing Kurt had seen in his whole life.

"So," Blaine started, with a lighter tone. "Are you going to dance with me now, or do I have to get you another drink first to convince you?"

Kurt laughed, happy and carefree, relishing the feeling of being cherished. "Fine. I'll dance with you."

"Yes!" Blaine stood immediately stood up and tugged him to the crowded dance floor. Kurt usually wasn't comfortable so close to other people who could brush against him or touch him if they wanted. He didn't want bodies rubbing against him, and he didn't understand why dancing would be fun, not anymore. Not when the simplest touch of a stranger made him remember all the other times he'd had to allow strangers to touch him.

But it felt completely different dancing with Blaine. He threw his arms around Kurt and tugged him close, but not enough to make him uncomfortable, just enough to make him feel like he was protected from the mass of sweaty bodies around them. Blaine was a good dancer and Kurt attempted to follow, feeling a bit out of rhythm and practice.

Blaine ran a thumb down the crease of Kurt's forehead, to smooth away his anxious frown. "Hey. Relax. You look worried."

"I can't really dance very well," Kurt apologized sheepishly.

"You're doing great," Blaine assured him, smiling, as he moved them in sync with the song. "Dancing is about feeling, not thinking. Just forget about everything but the music and you'll do great."

Tentatively, Kurt put his arms around Blaine's neck and stepped a little closer. Their bodies weren't touching – Kurt wasn't sure if he could risk feeling Blaine against him, closer than ever, without triggering bad memories – but there was still a whisper of intimacy that, surprisingly, didn't discomfort Kurt in the slightest.

With every song they danced to, Kurt discovered that being like this with Blaine was overwhelming him, but in all the good ways. His senses were filled with the scent of Blaine's sweaty skin; the sound of his voice as he sang along to some of the lyrics; the sight of his eyes fluttering close as if he was losing himself in the pleasure of dancing, eyelashes painting shadows on his cheekbones; the touch of his hands where they were settled on his back. Kurt had been a lot closer to many men than he was with Blaine now, but he'd never felt anything so intimate.

After a few more songs, Blaine leaned closer to be able to speak into Kurt's ear and make himself heard over the booming music. "I'm getting dehydrated! Do you want to head over to the bar and get another drink?"

Kurt nodded so Blaine took his hand to guide him out of the sea of bodies still throbbing to the music. Blaine let go when they got to the bar and leaned over the wooden counter, waving to get the bartender's attention. After being in constant contact with him for so long, Kurt felt suddenly lost, as if he was adrift without Blaine's hands holding him. He felt disheveled and unkempt, his hair messy and his neck sweaty. He found his reflection on a mirror behind the bar and realized his hair was sticking up in some places and that it had fallen in others from the sweating. He needed a moment to steady himself, to get his breathing back to normal.

"Blaine?" He said, fingers brushing Blaine's arms to get his attention. When Blaine turned to him with eyebrows raised in a silent question, he murmured, "I'm going to the restroom for a sec, okay?"

"Okay," Blaine nodded. "It's right over there; you can't miss it," he added, pointing in the direction of the bathrooms. He frowned for a second, looking concerned. "You're sure you're okay?

Kurt reassured him with a smile, and squeezed his arm before making his way to the bathroom. Despite how crowded the bar was, the men's restroom was practically deserted. He stood by the sink, noting the rosy pink on his cheeks and his sparkling eyes, before splashing some water on his heated face, thinking they made him look healthier and happier than he had in years. Next, he ran his fingers through his hair, trying half-heartedly to repair the damage. Was there any point if they were going to dance all night? The man that had been in one of the stalls washed his hands and left the bathroom, the door swinging closed behind him.

It opened again just a few seconds later, but Kurt paid no mind to it, busy trying to stop his bangs from falling on his forehead limply. However, when he felt a big hand settling on his hip, he jumped in startled alarm and turned to the man that had slipped close behind him, unnoticed.

Kurt felt all the air in his lungs abandoning him as he stared into those eyes; eyes he hadn't been able to forget and that still haunted him in nightmares almost every night. He stumbled back out of his grasp, tensing in panic. "You…"

David Karofsky smirked as he took a step forward, back into his space. "Imagine my surprise when I was getting a beer at the bar and I see _you _there," he said tauntingly. His voice sent a cold shiver down Kurt's spine, freezing him completely immobile, like a rabbit run down by a wolf. He put a hand on the counter next to where Kurt was standing, penning him to the corner, a hand with a gold wedding band on it. "It's been quite a while since I've heard from you."

Kurt swallowed, his frightened eyes darting to the door behind Karofsky, willing someone, anyone to come into the bathroom. He thought he should scream, ask for help, but there was no point. No one would hear him over the loud music pouring from the speakers.

Karofsky ran a blunt finger down his chest, beginning at the open top, where the purple shirt was clinging to his skin with sweat. Kurt cringed away from him, the sharp edge of the counter digging against the small of his back. Karofsky's eyes darkened as they wandered hungrily over Kurt's body.

"You look even better now, than you did in high school," he growled, moving in closer. His finger traced the contours of Kurt's ribs, down to a jutting hipbone. He put his hips against Kurt's thigh, and Kurt could feel the outline of his erection already pressing against him. He felt sick. "Have you raised your prices? Or is a twenty still enough to get you on your knees and put those pretty lips to work?"

Kurt forced his voice to work, putting his hands up to try to push him away, even though Karofsky was bigger and stronger. "Leave me alone."

Karofsky's other hand came up and tangled his fingers into Kurt's hair with a tight grip. Kurt let out a soft cry of pain as he tugged, hard. "Stop pretending you never enjoyed it. I know how much you like it. You love getting your mouth stuffed, don't you? What about your little hole? Do you love it, Kurt? You do, don't you? You get all hot and bothered just thinking about it, mm? You've always been such a perfect little slut…"

"Get off me," Kurt desperately tried to push him away again, helpless to stop him, even though he knew there was no point. He knew how this always went. Karofsky had always been able to walk right over his defenses, to just take whatever he wanted.

Karofsky leaned even closer, mouth pressed against Kurt's ear. "Sometimes, when I'm fucking my wife, I think of you."

Kurt whimpered in distress, a few tears slipping down his cheeks as he realized he wouldn't ever be able to escape from him.

"Are you going to be good for me now?" Karofsky bit hard on his earlobe and Kurt cried out in pain again, his voice weak with terror, because he knew Karofsky got off on hurting him. "How much do you want?"

Kurt pressed his lips tightly together to hold back a sob. He'd learnt early that crying only incited him to do worse. Karofsky tugged on his hair again.

"Come on, tell me how much you want," Karofsky whispered darkly. "I want to come down your throat like that first time. I'm feeling a little nostalgic…"

"What the hell do you think you're doing?"

Karofsky's head snapped to the side to find Blaine standing at the door, eyes wide. He was clutching a drink in each hand and taking on the scene before him, narrowing on the tears trailing down Kurt's cheeks.

"Get out of here, and come back in ten minutes," Karofsky said dismissively, turning back to Kurt, clearly not interested in Blaine. "We've got business to discuss."

"Get away from him right now, or I'll call the police," Blaine snarled, putting the drinks down on the counter and stepping towards them.

Karofsky snorted. "No reason to get your panties in a twist. He's a whore. We're negotiating a little transaction. Now get the fuck out of here."

Blaine put his hands on Karofsky's chest and shoved him away from Kurt with all the strength his fury had given him, in spite of being half his weight. There was fire burning in his hazel eyes and his face was strained with anger. "Don't ever touch him again!"

Suddenly released, Kurt couldn't stay there for one more second. Even though his legs felt wobbly, he lurched his way out of the bathroom, fleeing from whatever Blaine was shouting to Karofsky, and the hateful, hurtful words Karofsky was spitting back. He pushed his way through the mass of people and out of the bar, gasping when the chilly air hit his face, a shocking contrast to the stuffed atmosphere in the bar. He held himself briefly against the wall and then, needing to escape, he started moving away from the entrance, to put as much distance between him and Karofsky as possible.

Not far from there, his shaky knees finally giving out, he slipped into the darkness of an alleyway. He crumpled to the ground and curled up, sobs wracking his body as he let them out at last.

He wasn't sure how long he was there, rocking back and forth, his arms tight around himself as if scared he would turn to ashes if he let go for just a second. Karofsky's words replayed in his mind, each and every one of them, cruel and true, so, so true. _You're such a perfect little slut…_

Suddenly, there was a hand on his shoulder and he flinched away from it with a whimper of terror.

"No, no, Kurt…" Blaine's gentle voice reached his ears as he knelt beside him. "No, hey. It's okay. It's me. It's me."

Kurt looked up at him, his eyes reflecting blind panic and filled with tears. Blaine was in anguish just looking at him.

"It's okay, Kurt. I'll take you home, and you'll be safe there. It'll be okay," Blaine said soothingly, an empty promise to Kurt's ears.

Kurt kept rocking in desolation, even when Blaine helped him back into the car. His worst nightmare had materialized in front of him, when his guard had been lowered, after years of dreading it, and Blaine had seen every filthy second of it.

As soon as Blaine had guided him into the house and up the stairs to his bedroom, Kurt rushed into the bathroom and, just like that first day – _I want to come down your throat like that first time_ – he collapsed on the floor and emptied the contents of his stomach.

He would never stop feeling sick. He would never stop feeling unsafe.

* * *

**Alright, don't kill me. This needed to happen! Even though the end isn't the happiest, I really enjoyed writing this chapter, so I hope you enjoyed reading it. Please review and let me know what you think!**

**I start school again this week (booo!), but I'll do my best to have chapter 11 ready for next Saturday. Until then, have a wonderful week!**

**Love,**  
**L.-**


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